Late June

A June bug buzzes into the lamp
and falls down for a moment.
It's the longest day of the year,
and there was a little blue light over the trees
at half past nine on my way home
as the earth and sun spun away from each other.

At work, one of the patients said I would look good in lavender.
I thought for a moment that I like blue,
but since other people might like lavender on me,
I might get to like it too.
Really, what's self-esteem but getting used
to what you think other people like?
Sounds bad, but if the mirror was the only place
you defined yourself, that would be weird. 

They say all colors actually cease to exist in the dark.
As I fade out, I say to the June bug,
You're fat, but you look good in copper.