The colour of apricot is warm
and like the jam you see in shops.
It's like a symphony.
It's like a symphony of gold
that you find you have forgotten
suddenly.
The colour of apricot is not raspberry.
It won't make you think of red in the night
and scream.
It's like peach, but more rounded somehow
like a fat woman you see on a beach
who really should ...
The colour of apricot is what it is -
like all the apricots you see in
Madame Paul's window.
But she is mean. Don't go to her.
She'll give you apricots gone bad
and out the window.
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