Purple. It seemed like an innocent color and perhaps that is why she repeated the word twenty times or more. Purple. Purple. The shape sagging from something that was once pink and perky. No, not pink. Purple.
The kind of run down rash you might expect to see on the foot of a junkie. Dingy but not red.
Purple. She said it laughing contagiously but no one was sick. Sputtered up drunk, yes. No- not sick. Nothing about her was purple except the word she kept repeating.
Her hair… blueI think -but who could remember? The gap in her teeth was what eyes were glued to. The way she spit out language like a joke on humanity. Dripping with insult cackled directly from above where I was looking.
Purple. Nothing imparticular. As if it were an inside joke when we were facing a window. Glancing only for a moment to see what eyes may glitter when moments were recalled. But no one’s eyes were glittering. Only hers. Did she stop to think that perhaps she made no sense?
Did she stop to wonder if the vodka needed to be drained from the blood shot veins?
Fluttering around a party like it was an accident of coincidence. Oh and doesn’t coincidence appeal to those who wish they had control?
Purple. Purple. Purple. And then it couldn’t be helped. Sputtered. Sprayed. Spat. Innocence Leaping out of her mouth and bouncing down the steps we were sitting on. Oh the ache from her mouth just couldn’t stop! Purple! Purple! She kept crying out as if urgent, but ambulances were miles to be seen.
Covering her arms with hands scrunched up upon her fabric. Needy. Not even bothering to cover her mouth, contorting her emotionless stupor into something of a plea she said; ‘If only time could forgive me, but now that I’ve started, I just can’t stop.’

Purple smeared all over her gapped up teeth until embarrassment was rouged on everyone’s face. What to do with such a situation? Grow up. Stand up. Pick up your knees if you can’t use them. Away she slipped as our bodies bruised in the heat of color.


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