Maybe You Recall

Maybe you don’t recall

How sometimes honey’s smell

Can assail in a way that

Dupes the nose and reads like ripe feet.

The equivalent of the mind getting into

A Ford Focus after soccer practice

And, in a daze, recognizing that it

Doesn’t recognize the strange mother

Behind the wheel.

Poems that rhyme, a poet who I once kissed said, are corny.

The MacBook I had as a teen had tinny speakers.

Limp under the lion’s roar of my shower’s stream

I couldn’t make out the nuance of Springsteen.

Never was I able to make out nuance.

But hearing “Prove it all Night” on the radio

Now I understand what it is he is proving.

My feet smell because my slippers smell

because my feet smelled.

On occasion, the past is like a bear trap.

You are like the bear swiping at salmon

With a monster of springs and steel lodged

Onto your furry flesh.

I swapped stories with someone online and it felt

illicit; Bloom’s billet-doux.

We both wrote protagonists named Rachel.

The name’s popularity reached its peak in 1996,

Coming in at ninth most common. It’s good

to be skeptical. Better Pyrrho than Pierrot.