The Nose Knows
At the ballet, ran a survey. Who uses perfume?
The Nose knows.
Standing in the narrow hall
Waiting for one who’s answering nature’s call.
Young and all waft pass.
Vapor trail followed a pretty lass.
First to judge the bearer.
Less than thirty
Clearly in the majority.
Of course clothes she’s a-wearing.
Slight in build,
Knee high skirt with high heels
Dressed to the nines
Painted nails of all kinds.
But others, no scents a-following
None the nose detecting.
Washed clean as new fallen snow
Nothing, reflecting a flower filled meadow.
Next were those thirty to fifty;
Certainly not as progressive or sexy.
Moving like a bunch of cows
Impatient, waiting their turn
Udders (bladders) extended - firm.
Relieved they are slow to move
Stirring the air with reserve.
But wait, a scent is found
A single one moving around.
Essence of new mown hay
Identified as - cumin, let us say
Reminder of a pastoral scene
Was she here to be seen?
Just then joined by a man
Greetings; use imagination if you can.
Onward to the study
Now a rush aplenty.
For the aging ones emerge
After their time in purgatory.
Smell of coconut oil lingers
They washed their hands and fingers
(Probably only ones who did
Obscuring other volatiles instead.)
Back to the ballet.
(Or should I say, “Away from the toilet?)
Copyright © Joe Wortham | Year Posted 2018
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