The Firebug Finds Love
The Firebug Finds Love
If they made a sulfur scented aftershave,
I’d rock it. But I seldom need to shave.
The man next door hides behind a beard.
He sneaks outside to smoke cigarettes,
an occasional cigar, puffed to the nub
and gathered in a plastic solo cup.
He sniffs the air as if he might sense me
behind the window’s shade.
My earliest memory was playing
in the fire pit on camping trips;
trapping beetles between the red hot logs
until they sizzled, popped. I’
