Needles soft and decaying after a long winter

In the red pine forest. Cinnamon and butter

On toast soothing a child sick

To their stomach. Ozone-rich air

Walking down the jetway

To board a plane somewhere. The same green

Container of Brut that he wore then,

And still wears now. Oil and dander

In her coat when she rubs her big dumb body

Against me on the couch. Ammonia and shit

And litter I endure because I love them.

The distinct relief my face

In my t-shirt affords when I need it.

Specific to her and not pheromones,

Because we looked it up, but I know it

Precisely.

Run Club damply congregating

With pizza and beer around tables

In 90-degree heat. Cigarettes in humid

Summer air from a mile away ever since

I gave them up. New York City

Sidewalks with garbage festering and people

Pretending it isn’t there.

Charcoal briquettes and accelerant

On the first day of the year we can all be

Outside. The alcohol leaking through his pores

Like what happened last night stayed

In the past. A stranger passing distinctly

Reminding me of perfumed teenagers

At an amusement park. My disappointment

Of the chili on the stove

Because he always overcooks the tomatoes.

The upstairs neighbor that no one found

For three days until we noticed the black flies

Swarming.

Sterility and Windex and Clorox on

Bathroom surfaces free from hair and gunk.

I asked Dad what that smell was

And he asked me what it smells like

And I realized that it’s something each of us

Know deeply and can’t really describe.

I think a lot about how many of our

Experiences are kind of this way,

Maybe all of them. I haven’t decided.