Irish Goodbye

Only a chameleon could do it better:
Taking on the eggshell color of the walls,
Then the front door, Episcopal red,
Then the furred blackness of the fogbound midnight,
Into the streets of our everyman suburb.

Oh, what an enviable skill. For Sartre
Was right about other people. No, not you.
You are one of the ones worth talking to,
And I might have said goodbye had I found you
Alone in the hallway. You’d have understood.