There is nothing I love more than this season with you. The rain has started. The blankets are fresh out of the dryer. There is a brick of tea candles in the closet and a box of matches because you know I love the smell and the strike of them. You have the lighter you carry with you. We both know you carry it with you because I will misplace the matchbox right when I need it most, and you will be there to solve the problem. There is the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar in the air and it's dark enough by 5pm to light the candles. I say a makeshift prayer with every candle: Hovering over the wick with my matchstick trying to find the balance of timing involved in detailing enough what I pray for with the prevention of having the wood burn down to my fingers. Sweaters and tea and painting and the illuminated cave we have made together.
[Image from the film Phase IV (1974)]
(title: I enjoy the way my mouth, teeth and tongue feel saying this. Even if silently.)
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