Let’s launch a rainbow: reds—a long-sleeved silk I know needs cleaning, it got splashed with wine when my friend Judith gestured toward her glass while we munched her kugel; knit, knit, knit, I like the feel, some I’ve hardly worn since Marjorie and I binged at that outlet store near her new house, imagine two feminists dropping a hundred each on clothes, giggling like schoolgirls at the funky jackets; pink, I’m not hot on pink but I love this bright deep top, the color I wore in the last family photo with the old cat, 1997, pink not the best blend with his orange fur but Lord knows he didn’t care; purple, good for old women, as the saying goes, wise old women I hope,  crones, nurturers of the world; slide to blue, my father’s shirt from Greece he hardly ever wore, still an icon, like his pants I keep meaning to get altered so I can wear them, then blue flowers on white, deep blue, “I’m a little bluebonnet from Texas” I sang at age ten, about to travel west from Baton Rouge; a couple greens like a leprechaun’s tunic, now up to white, a few, awfully bright but a must for southern gals, and white shorts too, though they accentuate the thighs; then white with black stripes, French look, smart, on-the-go even without a sailor cap; heck, let’s go for solid black, never wrong for a lady, I like the way black sets off my silver hair, I’m a Winter, deep colors call, skin and hair and eyes so light—and the last on the rack is gray, it softens, it feathers, I can be an African gray parrot or, better still, a sandhill crane—easy slide from crone to crane—yes, I hope I’ve learned patience, balance, not to mention ways to fix you with my sharp red eye; now let’s invite the Color Kittens to come play!