LXII. Monday Purples and Yellows!

You make your last Monday Coffee and listen to Ed Sheeran croon, soft , melodic and emo.

You are melodramatically posed in purple.

“Why purple? Do you feel all bruised and beaten? Or is it like a whole, subversive royalty thing?” whispers the Little Martian in his purple spacesuit and yellow gumboots. He is quite the little Drama Queen.

“I like purple,” 

“That’s not a good enough reason!” careens the Martian as he paces his hoverboard up and down the room impatiently. He is eager to fly, happy to move, sick of hovering.

“Why is your spacesuit purple?” you challenge the Martian. 

“It’s the color of the Glutzibon Revolution. Duh.” He responds deadpan. 

You aren’t quite sure what to make of the purple yourself. 

There are grand endings and new beginnings that unfurl like silken flags .There is fear, trepidation, excitement, relief, dread, terror, the loosening of a twisted screw… rusted nails coming undone, white fabric, starched and ready to rip. 

But nothing purple…  It’s all a splash terrifying.

The Little Martian bonks you over the head with a bright yellow balloon and proceeds to pop it obnoxiously.

"What was that for ?" You demand , indignant, and a little pissed off.

"Less thinking, more doing. Be like the balloon. "

"Light, airy and poppable? "

The martian shoots you a withering look, softens it with a sweet smile , "No Little Sapien. Yellow. "