Untitled [9/20/09 @ 11:45 PM]

Dark in the room
She flips a switch
I hear the hiss
Of gasoline
Flaring out of
The tiny silver mechanism
Like a sun that will only last as long as she can hold her thumb down for

Still dark in the room
She lights a wick
Flame takes charge
Reaches out
With orange fingers
Singing the air
And sending smoke into the lungs of
whatever critters are crawling about on my furniture

Still dark in the room
She lights another
A couple of more
Till we're surrounded by
A circle of fire
It lights the room
But I couldn't notice the shadows on the walls when it was dark

Now light in the room
She picks up the candles
One by one
Blows them out
And blows right through me
Out the door
Leaving nothing but the smell of rosemary and smoke in my lungs

Hotels give me writer's diarrhea... Sorry, was that inappropriate?