You are my favorite color. It is sunlight through the translucent new grasses and leaves of spring. Hope and victory over decay and endings. A lime popsicle from the ice-cream truck in the scorched alley, given by a super-cool two wheel riding twelve year old cousin, named Marc… It is the sour flavor of the lollipop given by the doctor who said his patient deserved two, for bravery. The shamrock that grew in the soil of holy ancestors. You keep the kitchen sweet and clean, little sleek Swiffer, the “quicker picker upper.” A humble friend.