The name “Hugs and Kisses” won by a landslide to describe a fragile pink.

It was up against my suggestion, “Kick to the Balls.”

When they decided on naming a crimson on a day I wasn’t there,

I called the meeting to order with an investigation:

People, people, exactly how many minstrel’s chests were cracked open

to accurately assess the color of a “Minstrel’s Heart”?

There have been near-victories. I almost got “Shakespeare’s Tan” past the editors.

And when the day’s color resembled fetid layers of swamp built up to dump a body,

my “Urban Legend” won the day.

The closest shade to it? In honor of the victim: “Free Spirit.”

One day, when my goal was to come up with a name no one would ever want to commit their walls to,

I’d say I nailed it with the black “Cheating Heart.”

Hey, I told them that they were racist when they insisted on “Newborn’s Eyes” being blue.

And believe me, the only person who wanted “Un-teal We Meet Again” to happen

was the perky wordsmith responsible for candied turdblossoms

like “Puppy Paws” and “Kitten Whiskers.”

Every time I pass my “Crouching Tiger” orange walls,

it’s like I’m looking at an Asian movie I wasn’t a big fan of.

Tomorrow, I’ll overthrow “Salmon Mousse” and replace it

with “Dead White Person’s Open Casket Skin.”

Who’s with me?!