One day a butterfly set on my nose
and sais:
I want you to speak about blue
as if this is the last time a minute has 60 seconds.

Well, I know blue
is the colour of my coffee cup
in the morning.

I know that if you hear
-look it's coming out of blue
Watch your head-a stone is near.

When a man cries in the street "Blue"
he's still streching the divorce papers
in his pocket.

If you take blue out of colour cercle
a child has to stop
dreaming.

Blue is the colour of blood
rolling down on walls
in a moonless night.

I know that if you see people living
in blue houses
they are sea creatures
forgotten on the sand

Blue is the flower field
my mother pointed out
"That's how we live"

Blue is the minute I heard
Janis Joplin saying-
Summertime!

What about this?
one night I wrote blue on the toillet paper
and sick of middle letters
I decided to BE.

The butterfly looked at me
spilled his anger
and dissapeared;
I was still there lost in the blue......