The
drive home was nice
The
dark deepening
Made
the conversation wane
While
steady road noises thrummed
The
expectation was
That
we would ride home
Silent
and reflective
Winding
down our minds
Hoping
for some deep winter sleep
That’s
what would have happened
If
not for the smell
The
relentless, musky stench
Of
the rascally skunk
Hidden
in the murky woods
The
guerilla soldier of nature
Armed
with a powerful chemical weapon
And
I’m not sure why
Maybe
it was the wet summer
Or
just polecat migratory patterns
But
lately the smells
Have
increased frequency
With
intrusions occurring
On
an annoyingly regular basis
And
I always seem to breathe deep
In
through the nostrils
Just
as the full force hits
Tonight
when it happens
I
am in a reflective mood
I
bravely take a contemplative whiff
Then
boldly declare
I
am starting to like the smell
Especially
in comparison
To
the chicken farm we just passed
My
wife rolls her eyes
Tells
me I’m ridiculous
But
it makes me nostalgic
As
I recall from youth
The
scratch-n-sniff stickers
That
were all the rage
And
then there were the stinky ones
And
the skunk one was bad
But
never as bad
As
the pizza one
She
concedes the point
But
not the conversation
As
I enjoy the last vestiges
Of
our reeking neighborhood friend
And
contemplate smelly stickers
And
the oddities of olfaction
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