SCENT Sniff. Hard to find. Harder to savor. I catch you and my head turns. You linger in the air then disappear I’m not sure where. Invisible sweet smells, pungent crisp scents Give way to fragrant frilly ones. Warm aromatics engulf me. Harsh odors repel. I encounter every aspect of you without moving a single inch. My mouth waters. My eyes tear. My nose sneezes. I cannot hold you unless I find you trapped in spice jars or coffee cups. You ignite all my senses with your sly teasing. My lungs fill with your intoxication. I exhale. You escape. My nose tastes bacon, sees lilacs, hears crashing waves. (It was your salty scent that brought me to the sea.) And now a hint of your subtle soapy clean arouses Expectations as I unfurl straight from the dryer flannel sheets. But when I crawl into bed you are barely there All that’s left is the soft against my skin That I will soon soak in my less than pleasing aroma. You have fled again into oblivion. Should I abstain from scent since you cannot commit? Will I find satisfaction in a Lysol laden world? Sanitized. Deodorized. Purified air. No stench, but no perfume either. Alone, waiting for you I listen to my breath Knowing, hoping that with each inhalation There is a chance you will visit me again. A breeze sweeps in. You return anew. But did you bring me pleasure or pain? Sniff.
SIGHT Bombard me with your complexity and your endless stimulation. Fire the rods and cones in my eye sockets. Force me to focus, to squint, to peer at all the colors, shapes and outlines that dare confront me as I search for meaning in my experience of you. You frustrate me in all my creative efforts since no manufactured representation of your perfection can meet the natural beauty you possess so effortlessly. I see your hanging lemons ripening on those twisted branches, terra cotta pots randomly residing on a rickety shelf outside, and the gardener smiling at me with his big broad row of impressive teeth. I struggle with perspective though you illuminate it so perfectly in my field of view. The houses and hills nestled in the slopes and valleys of an extravagant landscape toy with my easel and its gesso-ed canvas of blank white daring me to capture even an iota of your sunlit charm. Fine – I will create distance. I will walk away and look at something else – that sweet puppy gnawing on its leash and learning its first lessons about crossing the street. Or perhaps I will make eye contact with every person who crosses my path. They will see me because of you and think I am insane. Or I will hold my eyes shut until the darkness comes and hide among the spreading shadows that cloak the corners where your insufferable daylight bathes everything in brilliance. Yet even in that darkness your reflection shines down from the moon above with its eerie bluish light. Is there no escape from seeing? With my eyes closed tight I still see the after image of a universe contaminated with saturated color, clogged with highlight and shadow, and smothered with your cleverly lit compositions. Taunt me with tone. Slap me with shape. Hit me with hue. Blind me with positive and negative space. You are cruel. I will transcend time and you will remain a slave to it. I will speak in my own unique voice. I will make my here-to-for-unseen marks resplendent in form and content. And finally you will cast your light on me and see how much better my imagination can be.
SOUND Husssssshhhhh. Listen. Hear the white noise ever present in my ringing ears. Tinnitus. The doctors told me I could hear ice cream melt inside a refrigerator two rooms away. Static. So why don’t I listen for you? Is it that I hear too much? The soft swipe of car tires as they glide by up a tar lined hill. The muted hum of hard drives whispering their presence. A cat snoring into his furry coat. Silence impure. These are my everyday sounds – the constant, the consistent, drone in my ears. Pings. I might add to the cacophony, as subtle as it is, with radio chatter, or music’s driving beats, syncopated rhythms, or oratory lyrics. Diversions not unwanted. But I like listening to the quiet. Savoring the times when I don’t have to pay attention to the world outside. The voices in my head shall never be silent.
FEEL Anticipating our time together, naked. None of the others come as close as you. Tempt me. You change me. Hot Steamy Forceful Pure Unencumbered Naked Like me. I listen to you in the next room heating up. The
sound of a thunderous rainstorm pelts the ground. I see steam billowing from beneath the door, obscuring my view, inviting me in. I enter your chamber. Glowing. Warm embrace. I step into your vertical path. Lather me in
bubbles, droplets, sheets, cascades, waterfalls, pools. Splash me with your crystal clear elegance. Drench me in your pounding steadfast stream. Take your time. I could stay with you for hours. Long, wet fingers trickle down my body. Touch me.
TASTE Taste me. No. Eat me now. I can’t – the rules say anticipation is one of the ways to savor you. I want to appreciate you fully. Good luck with that. Ode to Cookie Oh, thou hast awakened A passion pure and vital You tempt, I breathe, you mock, I seethe And still, there’s no denial That your complex beauty transcends all Though, I am told, you’re sold in malls By gangly girl scouts hawking boxes Thin mints and s’mores for causes. I bless that day in history When gods unveiled the mystery Small round disks of sinful sweet Were laid out at our mortal feet. Since that day we slave away We stir and whip and bake. We’ve added nuts and hunks of chips, And layered you like cake. I love you all, I won’t refuse I bite, I gnaw, I chew, I savor Sugar, butter you’re the base Of this immortal flavor. Take me to a better place Leave me hungry for your taste Shower me with your heavenly grace And paint a smile on this – my face.