Light from the simmering flames
waves and sways
along her face.
In her lone dimple,
in her liquor eyes,
on her marigold cheeks.
She laughs
left and right,
while her sea-salt locks
bounce on cue.

I lie
opposite the fire,
looking when the light
fills her eyes
like the Sun 
on the Moon.

Even as fire’s black breath
gags me,
and my eyes beg
to look away,
the smoke simply can’t understand
the grip
the horizon holds
on the eyes when
the Sun sighs
its final, tender
breaths of goodbye.

Lover mine (who never was),
with skateboard in lap
and Vans half-sunk
in sand,
what a silly thing I do.
To love a sweater
embroidered
“UCLA,”
or cherish the moments
as your eyes swing my way
(and then past again).
The logs snap
in time
with my heart.

We all circle
the dozing flame
like planets
around a star–
and I realize
that I finally
sympathize
with those that thought
the Universe
revolved about the Earth.