The smell of Brut intoxicates me,
my youth, my man, completing me.
High School dating remembered in fragments seen,
young man, young woman, runaways fleeing,
beer spilt in youthful hugs, thunder heard
in backseat love, lighting hunger
for future scenes, smell of rain’s
relief, traveling roads of disbelief
compiles life’s trials, into life’s chores,
now ever scored
by hunger.

The scent of Ambush encapsulates me,
a nation defined by canopies, the ‘70’s,
we seemed so free, escape now tiredly
bedevils me. Some moments refined by time,
remain exquisitely alive, aromas
of depleted pasts still hunger
for unanswered life, nowadays
we’re, oh, so wise, end days
within our sight; hunger,
it growls and knows, energy
stops its flow and some days
are sooner felt
upon a smell
of hunger.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/21/03