creating a more manly image

as i lie

on the bed, telling myself

that soon,

any minute now,

i'll get up

and start the day,

i pause and wonder,

staring at the walls,

while

pushing another pillow 

under my head,

how this room would look

painted green.

a soft

celery green, 

or the color of a tangerine,

a pale

orange and pink,

but then i think

that might

be too gay.

it's bad enough that i like

to bake cookies

and clean,

and iron my designer

blue jeans.

what's next writing poetry?