And tiny hotel soaps in the shapes of seashells

A mild infatuation is pleasing
in the way some things
are pleasing, like
sugar cubes
and tea bags, and
big pink erasers, and wine corks
stained red, pomegranate seeds
and incense cones first lit, glowing
fireflies in the dark, as you speed
down a country road, streaks
of dried mud on your shins, just because
tiny boxes of matches with clever designs
and the toothpaste aisle, so many
identical things, the artistic principle of repetition
and handi-wipes, the word
mesmerized
and your favorite towel.