Wave at the grey car

I lift my arm and wave at the grey car as it passes me walking along the grey pavement next to the grey road and opposite the grey block of flats with grey washing waving and the grey man driving it waves back.

I wave at the black cat as it brushes past my black jeans covering my black boots stomping down the black tarmac melting in waves of hot sun and its tail waves back.

I wave at the red baby as its hot cheeks shine at me standing there in my red jacket, waiting for a red bus, any bus; they come in waves and the baby waves back at me.

I wave at the green van delivering green vegetables to green people living a green life in the green countryside and I would like to live there too and the driver must be really friendly like everyone in the country and I am a city person, a green city person, the driver’s overalls have green sleeves and I see these as he waves back.

I want to blend in, chameleon-like but I stand out. I draw attention to myself as I walk down the street, waving to cars, cats, babies and vans, they look at me and say who’s that man? That man with the grey face, the black jeans and boots, the red jacket, the city person, the man with no roots. Up above the streets and houses rainbows flying high, everyone can see him smiling over the sky. Paint the whole world with a rainbow. Then I’ll blend in alright. Paint the flats sky blue, vicious pink and outrageous purple stripes. Only allow people to hang out brightly coloured washing. Then as I walk past the twelfth floor high as a kite, they won’t notice.