There are days, still, even days like these – bright, burning, and blue – where I sit in the back of the Escalade with the trunk wide open, staring out at sawdust and cement, at old power tools that I will never use, and I imagine a different kind of life.
I awoke from an afternoon nap. My immediate thought was of you. The air waltzed with particles of my burnt candle oil – purple orchid – and sunlit dust particles. The rays hung low in the sky – I knew dusk was upon me. The stars would blink their eyes soon and their crescent mother would cast its shadow on cherry blossoms and strawberry fields.