Thursday, May 9, 2024

poetry journal April 2012

 
I ought to recognize her scent

after all those years working

 in the cosmetics trade

but I don't.

She is not an Este Lauder girl,

A Charlie girl

Or that high class girl who

Bathes in Chanel #5.

She is more earthy

Her scent reminds me

of the patchouli the hippies used to wear,

subtle, but overpowering

whenever I get near

even here where

smell of beer and booze

oozes from every corner

as we all sit shoulder to shoulder,

her deep gaze staring at me

over the rim of her wine glass,

as if she knows what her scent does,

more potent than her night time texts,

 more seductive than the glimpses

 she give me over the meeitng room table

each Tuesday,

More intoxicating than the beer I ingest

I breathe her and still want more

 



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