June 30, 2009

…untitled no. 1 (9/23/2003)

This town reminds me of
her, as does the soft scent
of freesia in the wind, as
I pass a woman on the
street, and I turn my head
and imagine that I never
let that one magical thing
loose itself from me and
the strength of such a flower
distilled into perfume,
atomized into a fine mist
and falling onto the thin
blonde hairs where her neck
and her shoulders mingle
together, sharing gossip long
since passed around about
her pregnancy scare where
I crushed her soft body
between my arms and felt
her in such a way I had
never experienced.

My heart beat against
her chest, her tears stained
my graduation gown.

I pulled her chin from
my armpit, drowned
in the crystalline lakes
staring back at me, waiting
for an answer.

I took a deep breath,
and smelled freesia.

Which reminds me
of this town.