Smell You Later

Casually

you cross the threshold

of the counter,

committing atmospheric

robbery, clogging 

humid kitchen air 

with your synthetics, 

releasing the cooks

from their cages

with a perfunctory smile.

I am vacated:

polluted by wind-chimes,

stuck untangling the string

of a fallen kite. I turned

away from you but could 

not pivot less than full circle,

there you are there you are,

a carousel of soft-focus 

fixations wheeling 

with the luxury of a 

unicorn de-horned, 

miserable. Seemingly

in the habit of misery.

For a moment,

your eyes untied the vines 

darkening my peripheries.

Spores of no uncertain

worship mingled with
the shape of your mouth
as it left my name.

Your perfume fell
in droplets, pooling
purple, into convex
spaces, into birthmarks
the shape of a landscape
often mistaken for home.

For in that moment

one samples sweet 

everything with anything

but the tongue.