Oh The Things You'll Smell by Pat Mellon

You've eaten your veggies, you've worn different shoes, you've blown out the candles, you've followed the clues, you've gotten your license, you've driven a car, you've played a piano, the drums and guitar, you've gathered opinions, you've taken advice, you've stated your feelings without thinking twice, you've prayed with religion, you've gambled with faith, you've taken the fifth, the sixth, seventh, and eighth, you've lived without worry, you've loved without fear, you've gone where the path hasn't always been clear, you've chased imperfection, you've failed at success, you've made several moves that made oh, such a mess, now you stand at the zenith with hands on your hips, your chin in the air and a smile on your lips, you've made it in spite, or because, of your pain, you grew from the struggle, you drew from the stain, now your heart full of confidence, your lungs filled with pride, I'm here to report you're distorted and wide, your childhood was broken, your parents both drank, your savings are gone, overdrawn at the bank, your major in college- that one thing you enjoyed, it's a thing now for people no longer employed, that time at that place with that thing and that guy, well, it all was a joke and it all was a lie, you've lived far more days than the days that remain, and the years have destroyed all that once made you vain, and you scream at this Hell, 'it's a bad dream!' you yell, 'it can't get any worse in this verse, can it? Well?'

Oh, the things you will smell.

The lift of a lilac, the weight of despair, the smell of a fart that will rise from your chair, the breath of a lover, the wrath of a foe, the death of a wino who died in the snow, the magic of pancakes, of cookies, and bread, and the smells that you smell from a hospital bed, and the sweet smell of weed, like a lemon-soaked skunk, that just peed and had babies right here in my bunk, and this hostel room's toilet, mere steps from my face, and the guy from Zimbabwe who just wrecked the whole place, and the trash from the dumpster outside of this room, and what's truly unruly patchouli perfume, and the popcorn and hotdog and chocolate SnowCap, at the movie I sneak in on Tuesdays to nap, yes, smells all designed to delight and remind, of a life that's been mystical, muddy, maligned.