The fire blazes behind black iron bars,

crackling a song from my youth,

one where warmth coated every inch of my flesh

with marshmallows and chocolate…

chocolate.

Sometimes they give chocolate out at the shelter,

on special occasions,

certainly not on the corner.

Chocolate’s a childhood for adults who make their way…

away from this place.

I wonder now in the heat of the flame,

its quilt of amber yellow, bound with bitter-sweetness,

where my way once was,

in my journey long ago,

before I turned that bend…

The one that led me here in the dark night,

with silverware in my pocket,

because it was grandmother’s.

And though it’s n...

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