anymore,
it's more of a wax stub
with a slender
bit of a wick
sticking out.
the whole thing
is a glob
of melted wax
on an old dessert
dish.
but i light it just the same.
we need ambience,
a small flickering
flame to get in the mood,
i put some Marvin Gaye on.
what's burning, she asks,
as she crawls into
bed in her sweat pants
and my torn t-shirt
still sweaty from her work
out at the gym.
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