Impossible Blue

The sky is an impossible blue, a heart wrentching blue, one that defies the definitions and the connotations we adfix to the four simple letters.  I stare into the sky, thinking, watching in childlike fascination as the soft spun spiderweb clouds churn and swell.  The sun is still up but I know that I must sleep soon or I will be a basketcase tomorrow. 
 
I think about the week ahead, all work and no play it seems.  My sister moves my stuff this weekend, so I will have to be close to a computer in case there is any issues.  The cost of a phone call from here is too drastic for either of us.  Hard to imagine my life as I know it shipped off into dark storage somewhere, clinical remains, dull, quiet.  This boring person hid in books, hid in solitary sports, hid in gyms, hid in darkened movie theaters, hid in dimmed cars.  So quiet, so soundproofed that no one heard the screaming from inside of me, the rebellion trying to get out.  Is out now, outlandish and owly, an old spaghetti western cowboy, a kung fu expert lost at the bottom of a bottle, any old cliche one can think of, that is me right now.   
 
The flowers here are in bloom, especially the silky white masses that hang from the trees. Soon they will weep, weep those white petals like so many tears that have falled from many an eye.  Some things are universal, it seems.  The blue of the sky, the blue of water, the blue of rain, the blue of those tiny little flowers that poke up from the corner gardens.  Beyond the blue, there lies so much but it is easy to get lost in it, in this.