I began to imagine
that Orange was the mother of Genius
-Genius, the epitome of all that was good
about us each.
Orange, the nurturer,
the titan formed after traumas are over
and dealt with,
the us that spews forth
redundant, yet well-intentioned words of our age.
Orange, the sun of our prime,
the forgiving deity who sponsors life
for yet another twenty-four
despite yesterday’s terrestrial failings,
the giver, punisher and friend of existence.
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