fire dancer

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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…

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