Colorless People

First, the sun comes toward you,
Then later, the shadows do.
You’re colorless, transparent,
Nearly perfectly see-through

For the few hours no one’s near,
Not truly invisible
Bodily, only as thought.
As flesh you’re an obstacle,

Curiosity, puzzle,
Useless, not instrumental,
Awkward for solid people.
But as thought you blow like smoke

And disappear in the wind.
Sometimes you do fantasize
The rarer situation,
To be known for bright ideas,

So famously colorful,
Name glued to imagery,
Face interviewed on the news,
Voice linked to the shine of you.

You wouldn’t like it. Lucky
You can remain a dim lump
In this nondescript meadow,
Every thought invisible,

And, so long as no one’s near,
Invisibly bodied, too,
As the light slides toward you,
And later, the shadows do.