The Color Of Space Poem by John W. McEwers

The world is vast
thousands of languages
and peoples
and jungles
rivers, oceans
places I will never see
even with the help
of National Geographic.

But space is like wow
big
open
empty but for
little billiard balls
marbles
electrons
flitting around in circles
in their own cliques
Cause Jupiter wouldn't be caught dead
at Sagittarius' table.
This gravity and that electromagnetism
and strong forces
and funnel down
disappearing into a chasm of dark
then a blue pinpoint
a sphere of blue and mossy green
swirling white.
Down further to a city by a lake
crossed by highways
and rail lines
and down to an apartment building
with an overflowing dumpster
and the balding head of me,
John, the weak force,
splitting my atoms,
ripping apart.

My half life
just enough
to keep a pasty
brittle structure
standing,
legs aching in the sun,
waiting to see another color.