The Scents of Contentment

Eyes can lie, and ears? Don't get me started,
But one's nose is true, and mine has found
A paradise. The smells of grease and diesel,
Smoke from cigarettes, perfume the air
Downtown. I wait to cross the street
As trucks and buses rumble by, and assholes
In their upscale wagons honk and dart
And raise their middle fingers at lowlifes,
Like me. I let them go. With any luck,
They'll crash before they make it home,
While I have reached my destination.
Feeling as if I've been stripped of
Decades of lethargic living, I light up
A cigarette, and bulldoze my way
Down the sidewalk, letting my nose
Lead me to the nearest deep-fried food.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 136 times
Written on 2019-05-07 at 17:16

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