Out of Synesthesia Denial
a poem by Terry Bailey

Seeing a big yellow bus today
I smell rain and feel mud
Squishing under a child’s red rubbery boots

Red
Reminds me of cinnamon
Those little candies
Grandma kept in her dish by the velvety sofa she called divan

Thoughts of dogs and cats
Comfort me in veils of warmth
Like satin nightgowns
Drawn over my head
Settling softly on my skin

Dry crackers
Crumbling on my tongue
As I write
Or eat soup
Beckon me to lie down
Feel the warmth and grainy cushions of sand
The sun heating my skin
A dance of colors beneath closed eyelids

continues