fire dancer
December 19th, 2003 “Love. Of Course, Love. Flames for years. Ashes for 30." Two thousand degrees of heat. I want to see a light show of dancers, trapeze across my bedroom floor with their encore of grey. Blistered fingers flicking a cigarette lighter. The flame does a pirouette for me. Mom says I smell like tobacco and clove cigarettes. But she doesn’t know the reality…