The dashboard glows green.

Speeding through the night,
my heart is a snowflake 
floating on the silence.

Houses are horizontal lines at first,
They have no definition, 
I don’t see them at all.

Then a small Cape, 
royal blue in the night
says, “I am here.”

The living room light is on,
gold emanates,
an opening treasure chest.

I round the corner, and it is gone.

In the kitchen window 
a woman stands at the sink 
eating a chicken leg.

Heavy lids cannot extinguish 
the golden optimism in her eyes.

“What’s your name dear?”
Before she answers I am miles away.

At a distance, stands 
a house so large, 
more a monument.

The blinds tightly shut.
As the garage door opens, 
a car leaving the compound, 
reveals the uncompromising, safe,
cold green.

My wheels tick on.

A brick four-story apartment 
at the end of the block 
glows gold despite 
the ragged curtain 
half holding on to the rod.

A crayon picture taped to the window.

Three blocks down 
a curly haired head rocks 
cradled in massive earphones,
plugged into a blue screen.

“Are we cousins?”

I am always 
too quick and too far
for a reply.

At the next stop sign,
a lamp reflects on her smooth face 
veiled in green
hiding her sacred hair.

A hand quickly shuts 
the thick curtain between us.

The road continues to mutter, 
punctuated by the country double lines.

The blue glow of the city miles behind,
a house sits at the end 
of the drive.

It is the color of night. 

It is warmth. 

From deep within radiates a spectrum
casting shadows 
against the window glass.

Its heart beats smooth and steady. 

I drive, 
a blinking satellite 
coursing through space. 

A milky way of homes 
shine,
one light,
blue, green, gold.