THE BLUE MAN

 

The blue man declines gently at first, then drops sheer to the depths.  When he laughs, the universe laughs with him.

 

The yellow man is chummy, always ready to sit next to you and start right in.  He'll accept anything, eat almost anything, is insufficiently critical. 

 

The silver man has a burden that weighs him down, keeps him mostly silent.  His eyes shift left and right as he awaits an outcome he knows will be bad.

 

The green man mustn't be spoken of.

 

The white man sits at the edge of his rock.  He'll either kill you or help you struggle to the peak of said rock.  Probably you don't want to die, and possibly you've no use for reaching the peak either. 

 

The transparent man is there in the park at night, behind you.  You feel his breath on your neck, and in colder weather you can see it.

 

The red man is on the stage, moving quickly.  Know him by the flash of his white teeth.  Don't imitate the red man: he is vain and shallow.

 

The orange man can fix anything or rig up anything and will set you up right.  Many an orange man is like the yellow man with a mechanical bent.  Those who are not might even be philosophers.

 

The pink man, sometimes called the violet man, is as often ignored as he is endowed with a courage and brilliance beyond the norm.

 

The black man does what is necessary, then steps back, but only a little.  The black man is already there.

 

The gold man. . . .   But is there a gold man?  Some say there is, others that it's archaic to believe in him.  "I suppose you believe in God too," they say.

 

The blue man: if he laughs, it signals that the universe itself is laughing. 

 

It's the blue man, and of course his gold twin, that interest me most.

 

 

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