all my past
imposes on my breath today
i enter a grand mosaic public building
and on goes my medical face mask
i join the back of the queue with my documents in one hand
and my numbered butcher ticket
in the other
i admire the mosaics
a jarring tide of art against the bureaucratic purpose
of these rooms
gauzed in with own product exhaust
all my past is attending
exhumed
patted into my breath
baiting remembrance with unsubtle notes
for example :
integrated spittings of 'drum' tobacco (i quit a decade ago)
horning catches of cologne every boy used as a teen
seasonal scents unweaned from deep in my system
(some reigned in from the different countries
i lived in or visited)
then i am frisked back to infancy with breast milk and rusks
it's all there a basking flippancy
all there in musk about my face
one fragrance after another
it's an honest relief
to host an alternative to my 'old man' breath
but odd and concerning
something of the brain ?
date of original version : 07/11/22
