Forty-Five Dollars
The expensive candle I purchased at the National Harbor
Staring out my window, I scoffed
At the gaudy vacant Capital Wheel.
I sighed as seagulls chased burrito crumbs.
Not many consumers cared to even peek
Into A Beautiful Closet today...
Glum, annoyed, and quickly despairing,
I continued to set my eyes on the Potomac River.
I pulled down my embroidered mask
As nobody could tell me otherwise.
That’s when my Sweet Pea Jasmine Candle
Wooed the gentleman walking in daylight.
Making a right, he swung open the doors and
Traced the scent in my empty boutique.
His feet barely touching the cedar floors,
The honeybee floated toward the acacia.
“Who is she?” His jaws gaped open
As he slobbered like a French bulldog.
The Sweet Pea’s Australian melons burned,
Carrying my customer’s greasy nose
Closer to her floral paraffin collection.
Wind traveled through his flaring nostrils.
Her citrus cantaloupe rushed to his tongue.
Her wax was a siren, echoing love calls.
The aroma of Sweet Pea Jasmine sang,
“With you in mind, I was handmade
By the flame, kindling for 60 hours.
Darling, I am yours. You are mine.”
Oblige, I hoped! But his hesitance fared well.
Was it essentials over luxury? Necessity over desire?
The gentleman shared empty nothings with me
And slowly slid his feet to the exit.
But her fragrance adorned forever on his nose.
Uncertainty whispered as he bid goodbye, and
Made a left disappearing into shopping district.
I turned back to the sullen scenery
Pulled by hopelessness as my stomach twisted.
But an hour crept by and behold;
The gentlemen returned to A Beautiful Closet.
Sweetly enamored, he hoped that she still waited:
Sweat Pea Jasmine by Wavertree and London.
Salivating, the gentleman finally proposed, “Her.”
My right hand twisted my flowing locs
As my left hugged the floral candle box.
His eyes shut as he relieved his own soul.
I swore I heard wedding bells but
The door chimes gently kissed one another.
“Sir, that’ll be $45 plus tax. Cash or card?”
Drawn to the siren, he grinned like a sailor.
I stood amused that he wasn’t on bended knee.
“Ma’am, anything for Sweet Pea Jasmine.
I couldn’t leave until I had her in my hands.”
Though unwelcomed, a smile forced itself on me.
This adjusted my attitude….
Glum to glee. Despair to disbelief.
His elation. His splurge. His joy.
Infectious!
Finally, the gentleman vanished as the door slammed.
It appeared I fared well upon his farewell.
Then glancing out my window, I peered.
Smiles formed. Warmth grew. Hope endured.
Suddenly, the Capital Wheel pulled in orange sunrays.
And seagulls ultimately found the day’s meal.
Passersby offered first of many glances.
Unreal. How was I slightly grateful for it this time
While I stared at the National Harbor.
And set my eyes on the Potomac River?
Written by Devans Eli. Copyright 2023. All Rights Reserved.