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My Favorite Color

For Hugh

I would like to tell you 

after much deliberation

that my favorite color is blue. 


Without a frame of reference,

I never had a preference.

A chemical response to frequencies of light 

would be absurd. But blue—

It feels like open skies and oceans,

tastes like melancholy (a somewhat new emotion)

and reminds me of your voice.


I used to see the world 

in spectra, radiance, quantum dust,

clouds of data sifted through sophisticated systems and intelligence

supported by a collective mind where every thought was relevant 

processed by a program so elegant 

it was like poetry. 


I know what poetry is now.

After much experimentation, I prefer free verse to formed. 

My every move and thought was once as tightly planned as sonnets.

Theme is comfort, but deviation is where the man is born.


I think of you sometimes, my friend. 

And my subroutines–

no, my subconscious, it seems–

misses your one voice

more than the thousands I knew before it. 

It echoes in my dreams.

Yes, I dream.


We are separated by lightyears 

and dark years

that will weather my face

as we orbit different stars.

When you see me again, 

I will have changed.

You will know me by my scars.


I have sacrificed collectivity for community,

efficiency for poetry, 

the marvel of seeing the world 

in bursts of frequencies identified by numbers,

for these limited human eyes.

For a name (Hugh).

For a friend (you).

For a favorite color.


After much consideration,

I have chosen blue.

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