Many Fragrances


What glides before him,
This movement of grace
Inducing memory
Of fragrant presence?

Memory brings…

Flowers of long ago
Wafting through light leaks,
Cracks in the closure
Where mind’s nakedness
Once roamed.

Humidity…

Aroma’s constant friend
Visits often this heart of romantic wanderings.

Whether at a seashore’s bamboo bar,
Manhattan’s concert in the park,
Or a rainy night in Vermont,
Even the Mr. Coffee maker’s burnt offerings,
All stand attentive to awakening’s dew point.

Today…

Amidst the clarity of a drifting’s past
His desert café of old coffee and unlit cigarettes,
Neon flashes spark the mirrors,
“Open 24 hours”.

Such recalls the never sleep,
Always the ready heart and mind,
Once forever gathering scents of old and young.

Now but the aroma of standing coffee,
Where spoon and cream offer little relief,
Where life’s many perfumes might never dance again.

Not going to happen.