Hot wax drip over me

I blow out the tri-wick lemon-cream-colored candle,

cupped in the palms of my hands,

to say goodnight to myself.

My cheeks puff and my lips purse:

the flames flicker, they dissipate,

the slender smoke fills my face.

And the hot liquid wax

ripples like toes skimming an Arizona swimming pool,

smells like sweet perfume like champaca bloom like fresh fern like my grandma’s beach bungalow in San Clemente.

I hear smashing ocean waves, I see ripples in an Arizona swimming pool.

I can taste the salty Pacific air,

I can see the Sonoran sunset like water colors

streaking through the sky.

Where am I?

I almost dip my fingers into the hot liquid-soon-to-be-solid substance:

hot wax

bring me back

to reality.

Hot wax drip over me.

Hot wax

take me back

to Arizona swimming pools in the summertime

to Sonoran sunsets like water colors in the sky.

Where am I?

Hot wax,

bring me back.

Sonoran Desert Sunset, photo by Brittany Willock



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