These colors don’t run?


These colors don't run?

Tim Scott Poma Photography


By Tim S Poma

The other day,
I accidently washed my American flag, in with a load of my whites.
I opened the lid and to my surprise
Regardless of what they always say these colors do run,
And it’s constantly away from the truth.
My whites turned pink first as if to say they were embarrassed.
Then they began to bleed threw mixed with a little bit of blue,
Which now gave them almost a light purple hue.

It was at this time I thought how cool would it be,
If I could launder my country?
Clean the slate, start with the heads of each and every state.
Then to the board room we would go to tell the Ceo’s NO!
Till we got to the white house door step and demanded,
A bright new day.
One that doesn’t have us groveling in debt,
Competing to the death,
For a little piece of a paper trinket.
Wow, what colors would meld together and bleed
And how much dirt in the washing machine would there be?
And how many times would I have to wash it till my country was clean?

As the spin cycle stopped, I grabbed the bleach and popped the top
Flipped her upside down and didn’t stop till the very last drop.
Once again I ran the wash under high heat and vigorous agitation,
Till the once red white and blue ran out of the flag of this nation
And when the spin cycle STOPPED,
I reached in to see what it was that I had got.
And there she was sitting underneath all that red white and blue
The flag of every fall ancestor I never knew.
She was clean and white resilient like the light
And when I held her up in the sun light what a magnificent sight.
She was dressed as a sign of surrender,
Covered in the white stars and stripes of splendor
And painted the color of light for all of us to remember.

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