Passing
"thanks."
the word eaten by wind
as I hold the heavy door
turn to catch a whiff
of brunette and hazel
and grey wool and
iPod
young young young
slight and slightly
curved
for less time than it takes
swung glass to shut me in
her out
I forget my headache
my debt, dead, day
in scent
in vanilla
in baby powder
something something something
something young