Even in my teal appeal I feel the need for more. I am a walking painting answering the phone. My chairs and my walls match my pot and my mom. The painting is a Maisel vase spilled over. A wine glass, turning purple the blue. I am a stealthy lawn care seller. The phone I hold is green. Only a little hill of pink shows through my skull cap. It’s a piece of me I’m trying to leave behind. The middle colors stuck under the skin are nothing. I’m just rusting away. I walk through the amusement park in search of my hurried family. If I had a tail I’d cut it off. Enough is enough, I tell the balloon vendor. How much must we end with when we finally decide to die? The blurry men mean nothing to me. I breathe greetings into a purse they hurry within. I am not a struggling comic. I am a mom with a knowledge of fur.