It was subtle.

I couldnt've picked

Myself out of that crowd.

Even the tropical

Flavors played along,

Faded themselves

As a favor

To blend

With our muted vanity.

Blue is black is gray is blue.

Nothing gave much of a mutiny:

Not the woodworked ceiling,

Not the plastered moments

Of artistic explosions

Hanging in hunted trophy style.

We mostly settled.

Ate a slice or two of pricey bread.