Audience

Candles that smell like fictional scents
straight out of Willy Wonka
burn on the counter
in the house of no repairs.

Bright green leaves of the maple
outside, bright green eyes
peering over a christmas coffee mug
filled with green tea.

There's no money in this shade —
no dollar dollar —
no time between the turning of pages
and reading For Love aloud.

Obscure jottings down
later on, of what we came
to see. Broken off

This audience of one is fine by me.