Entering the spice markets I smell the simmering energy of yellow and red: turmeric, ground annatto seed, anise and sweet clove. I don't buy anything. I remember only how, once, not so long ago, I drew a warm bath for you with eucalyptus and cinnamon bark. Live your life, friends admonish me. What does it matter that night dips into darkest vats of color, that day shutters the stars with light? I want to believe there were many things we shared that still make you feel sweet, that make you feel something when we say your name.