These Colors are Scheming (Conversations with Turquoise, Gold, and Pink)

Turquoise toys with things and likes to make things fancy.  Turquoise will fold the dinner napkins, like the French, into upright swans.  In her past life, Turquoise was a cowgirl in her past life (Turquoise still wears the thick leather belts and hitch-hikes through the Mid-west). Of course, Pink is involved in the mixing: turquoise and pink are cousins-once-removed (they sit across from each other at the breakfast table; they split the omelet with extra cheese).

They are especially hyper when around one another: Pink will keep fidgeting while Turquoise talks with its mouthful. Turquoise comes when you’re ready to get want you want: from somewhere in-between those rubbing hands when mischief is in your fingertips.  Turquoise likes feisty hands. Sign-language is all turquoise talk.  Turquoise stages those bare hands acrobating in restless tongue.
 
Purple is too weighted to fidget. It is inherently a dense and serious hue—coming as the final color. Purple claims to have no relationship with lavender and resents being compared to such a pale and remote shade. And no, Purple will not answer to the name mauve.   Purple is never subdued or elusive. Purple brings down the final curtain at then end of a tragedy though the audience cannot let go, and Purple is in the Russian handshake when everything is decided. Most good magicians choose the purple cape.  Purple fits best up sleeves.

Gold stays with what is left behind. Gold is the last gulp of coffee or the warmth of worn-down rosary beads. Gold is what remains in the gap on the bookshelf when the book is found. And Gold is in a return: your hands back at home in shy pockets, the ready nod, when the ba-TING of a type-writer says that’s enough, or when the steep San Francisco street puts you back down safely and lost.