PERFUME

Walking into Bloomingdale's,
you will be attacked.
Be prepared to walk the gauntlet,
as they close in from both sides
smiling and pointing their sprays.
The pretty girls in shiny hair and sharp-lined lipstick.
The pretty boys all super-groomed.
Do not succumb.
Do not fall into "Temptation."
Do not drink the "Poison."
Do not enter the garden of "Evil."
Because in the past few years,
the true talents in the fragrance industry
have all been at work in the naming department —
and they've let the gremlins take over
the smelling department.
There are foul brews that make you want to gag.
Perfumes that reek like old plastic.
Dank aromas they call musk.
Cloying scents that cause
your nasal passages to shrivel.
Men think it's sexy to smell like stale tobacco.
Young women are crazy for
something that reminds me of mildew.
Once in Bloomingdale's,
curiosity got the better of me
and "Passion" overcame me.
I let them spray.
For the rest of the day,
I couldn't stand to be near me.


© Ellen Azorin