aromatic candle

the cool-berry candle burns an aroma so sweet,
and i sit here with nothing else to do.
well-rounded like a baby's head-
well-tuned like a baby grand piano-
well-weathered like the hills that we live in.
i am reading a new book that i just picked up.
a pretty piece by ayn rand. it's her romantic manifesto.
i like her language, her word choice, and her own point of view.
she puts a smile on my soul.
i got another book explaining tao, and i started in on that too.
i've been drinking from a green glass bottle,
trading off sips and pours.
i let one hit my lips, and that one's for me.
when i pour out a drink, it's for my dead homies.
the sky is dark like a jagged sea of glass,
and the sun is underneath me.
i want to dance on top of the bay area smog,
and briskly walk through new york city's lights.
i'll stop when i've seen everything.
until then- the breath in my lungs will not stop.
a sip for me, a sip for my dead homies.
the liquid brea-brea-breaks my heart.
and for now, ayn rand and me have a date.
can you smell the love we're about to make?
with the turn of each page, and the glance at each word,
i take it all in and scream.