Red or green or yellow or blue

Red or green or yellow or blue, illusions all in all, mean nothing today when the senses have gone on a holiday to worlds far away beyond the world of the spiders, beyond the world of the fireflies, beyond the world of the honeybees, beyond, beyond, beyond almost all the other worlds and this world too sitting at little desks one foot tall perhaps half a foot more having had two mugs of tea that was plain hot water tea leaves and spices hot on the tongue with two ginger biscuits butter cookies quickies quick fixes in the balcony or the veranda on the bypass road high-jacking vehicles with six wheels or more overhead bridges flyovers ha what a joke it is to talk about steam engines, electric trains and metro lines on Valentine’s day in shades of pink, red, green and blue, not to forget the yellow too – like lemon and violets and broccoli and plums – cherry red peaches in the colour of – of course, peach beseech justice and a voice of one’s one who’s afraid of the wolf from the story of little red riding hood state of Virginia wolves with extra feminist ‘O’s O, oh, oh, oh – ho, ho, ho of the Claus de Santa ze French grandpa who brings gifts on the day of Noel and not the Feliz ha, ha, ha only the totalitarian tomatoes are Spanish – Española oh forgive me our father Borges who lives in heaven perhaps a huge, large, monster of a library somewhere up above beyond the reach of the creepers of chillies and the beanstalks with secret whispers and the murmurs