the me in gasoline

the me in gasoline on water is a rainbow
of potential sliding around, skimming the tops, spreading then
unraveling with every
exhale of the Bay
shape shifting like a scream
my perplexed smirk distorted then tortured
and mad in the only possible way

the slick bird above me
purple to orange to blue to barely discernible shine –   
oh shine on, you gull, shine on
free from such thin and colorful prisons as this.