Posted tagged ‘what’s that smell poem’


September 28, 2014



They were like peepholes into
a glacial cave; they were like
cabochon jewels mounted one
upon another; the cataract eyes
the sodas slid from, garnets
of melt, yet still so cold the bottles were hard to hold
as we stood there– had to–
to drink them, then return,
sliding each into a chipped
wooden rack

slatted against
the white tiled glare of gas stations
that were themselves shaped, curved
like the cars, flat-topped
like the drivers, hubbed
with burnish–it all comes up
as I sit here trying to meditate away
the sadness, waiting for you,
who packs to go back, while me, I’m staying on,
only sitting in the car to avoid
another ticket, till, as I connect
with the breath, my nose is permeated
with the smell of gasoline, the guy in front, and so sad,
so sad (even though it’s only
a few more days), so sad
that I try to find in that smell
some release–the magic of
way back once
when it was an inhalation both heady
and thumb-smudged, dangerous, male,
oil-creased–a scent backdropped with levitations
of the dark and tubular–

the regular mechanical as reliably mysterious
as the thick lips of glass that circled
those swallows of freeze we
shivered down, never dreaming those bottles built
for re-fills would some day be far
beyond our grasp–

as will be
this moment I wait in,
this moment in which I am so sad
that you are going,
this moment that will not come back, no matter how

I might miss it–


Poem of sorts for Margaret Bednar’s post “Play it Again, Sam” on With Real Toads.  Margaret brings back older prompts.  I am returning here to Ella’s prompt about writing something that comes up after sitting quietly, and also Shay’s (Fireblossom) about magic. 

Also posting belatedly to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.