The day the water turned purple,
she woke up with a blood pressure close to zero. As usual.
Collecting the pathetic remnants of power in her body,
she sipped the bitter coffee. Purplish Black.
In the shop people were minding their business.
The man in front of her nervously rummaged in his purse.
Shiny pearls of purple sweat emerging from his forehead
soon drew lines down to his chin.
Finally, he found the cash card and hastily left.
Smudgy purple fingerprints all over.
Walking home she felt a drop on her nose.
The dots on the asphalt replicated quickly and
purple lines were pouring from – where.
The waterlogged shirt wasn’t yellow anymore.
To process the strange occurrences, she filled a bathtub
and looked at herself in the deep purple surface of liquid.
Solemnized she enjoyed the pleasure of dissolving
until, with a slurp, she was sucked in by the tubes
and is since permeating the purple veins of the leaves.
Yet no one seems to notice the ever more shimmering shades.