Dating : In this time of coronavirus…

7 Billion Flavors Served

People come in all flavors

and I mean that literally.

The chemicals oozing up through our skin
smell of

Spain in the days when Seville was a proud and cruel lady
lashing out at the world with might,

dark corners under the rug at night
over which rats scurry
and dust mites hold 3 a.m. revels —

perhaps you did not know that dust mites revel –

that is at least
my explanation for the mess they leave everywhere
tucked untidily in corners,
stuck to the bottom of carpets,
between the boards of floors.

Be that as it may
people smell of

starched linen collars and fluffy descendents
of rat-catching dogs perched on their laps
as they gaily gaze out glossy windows
into bright summer rains sloshing across pane and lane,

or axle grease and sweat,
sex sans thought
grunting
between the pages of day and night,

dry air circulating artificially among
four million books stashed
all in one place,

powder and Chanel clogging the sinuses with an excess of privilege
or McDonalds hamburgers three days old
in the back of the fridge

but hey, it is all good,
as it is still food.

I love them all
as they pass through my nose

revealing things I would never have known
if I hadn’t
sniffed them graciously
through my front door.

I will never leave them,
perennially invite them back for more
of whatever it is I smell of

that feeds some need in them
to take in
strange vistas
emanating from the mysterious hollows
echoing
between my off-world
stranger’s skin

and theirs.

c. 2004 TDHawkes