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Pretty, Pretty, Fire


I always liked fire. There is something about the way the flames create a luminous pattern, like three dimensions of plasma. Maybe that's why my brother's friends in Maynard Massachusetts always called me Pyro, even though I rarely got the chance to actually burn anything. Back in those days every grocery bag included 2 packs of John F. Kennedy stamp collection matches. The matches themselves were cheaply made of black paper with red sulfur heads. When you lit them, half the match head was likely to break off and fly at you while it was on fire. The joke about "John F. Kennedy Exploding Head Matches" got around pretty fast, and oddly enough all the smokers and pyromaniacs out there did not think to sue the company that printed the matches.