Interlude 2

My mom is awesome and she called me and helped me work on my poem. I think it's much improved.

Interlude              

The engine stills & begins

to cool. I chuck the keys in

my coat pocket & slip out

the door into the thin gap

between cars, careful no scratch

is left behind. Slate sky somber

above me, I smell potpourri,

as if a bonfire of dry flowers

smoldered in the backyard.

I remember testing vials of orange

& lemon oil in a fragrance store

with a girl when I was younger,

not yet wrapped like a bouquet

with memories laced to perfumes

or background music. It was winter also

& we hurried back to the car, missing

the crisp air around us & avoiding

the melting patches of ice.

I adjust the scarf bound

around my neck, & listen

to the old lady scuffing down

our slow street, crunched leaves beneath

her steps & mine. A short space

connects the car & home;

it is a routine walk & I reach

the welcome mat in moments,

cold hands digging

for house keys. I'm still breathing in

the strange smell, like crushed

lavender & mint.

Then I’m out of it, into a room

with stagnant old carpets, dusty

tiles, & closed windows.

Stuck inside day after day,

I forget at times the aromas

growing like vines against my gate.

I forget that in an empty January,

I live here with dried rose petals

& beckoning cedar branches.