The light is blue. The bedroom is round. The car in the driveway is on fire. There are rumors of armed robbers or rubbers armed with firearms. The arms of the world are on fire. The arms around the world set fire to the forest. One can’t set the rain on fire without tires. Liars armed with blue arms shoot at fire trucks in distress. The arms of the world are in distress. In this dress I share secrets with white horses. In this dress I am armed with a blue lamp as moth mouths breathe fire into blue flames. The blue organizes a rebellion against red. These are rumors from the bed in the middle of the room facing north and/or south. This is a mucus membrane. This is a pixel of six billion geniuses armed with question marks. Ma takes her shoes off and threatens me with winter. I wear a coat and unwind the reel. Ma swears the lamp is alive. I swear she is a lamp.