Red like the lipstick I bought in 2015


Red like the lighter in bed with us


Red like the glow of the street lights on wet pavement


Red like the blood from the rose thorn


Red like a cherry jolly rancher sucked paper thin


Red like the color of my shirt when I crashed my bike


Red like the skin slicked from my face


Red like Campari with soda and Negronis 


Red like the bite out of the pluot in Malibu


Red like the dress she wore to declare the terms of our dissolving


Red CoCola truck he climbed onto that one night in June


Red like the inside of your hamburger



Red like the wall in my studio



Red like the typeface on every plastic bag Thank You Thank You Thank You

Red like the winter stain from a blood orange

Red like every sports jersey ever made

Red like your blush when I compliment you

Red like the hundreds of roses I process on Valentine’s Day

Red like the inside of the lantern fly wings we are ordered to stomp

Red like the color of a newly formed star

Red like the dried out tube of gouache on my studio table