22 candles in December

I'll tell you this,
it's Christmas Eve.

I'm laying on my bed smoking cigarettes
and from here you can hear the cold
raping all that is left of Autumn.

I have no electricity.
Towels stuffed under my bedroom doors.

I have 22 tea-light candles lit
that I managed to steal.
I have 22 candles lit for warmth.
A mild dent, if any at all.

For the most part, all is well and
even the most frigid air
can't hold a candle to that,
but I can.

Imagine that.




Raymond M. Strickland jr.

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