mass transportation
the bus idles
almost empty
I can smell the city
the air is thick with grease
and dirt
and soot
it covers my face
exhaust
and sweat
and filth
and I sit here surrounded by it
breathing it in
waiting for the bus to move
waiting for you
a woman boards the bus
I don't notice her at first
I don't see her get on
not until she sits adjacent to me
the bus - almost empty
- and she sits here,
next to me
and I can feel her in my space
her perfume hangs heavy in the air
too ripe to be a day old
she must have reapplied this smell
and now it fights with the stench
her perfume against this oily waste
creates a sickly haze
this fog that I sit in
I breath in this slick
and I wait
I'm surrounded now
this woman's stink
juxtaposed against the city stench
perfectly matched
each offsets the other
each setting off the others' qualities
and I can smell feet and skin and breath
taste honey stinging at the back of my throat
I can taste a hundred hamburgers
and I can smell wet rotten petals
this sickeningly sweet aroma
this suffocating stink
this city smell
I want to stand up
get out and run
leave this funk behind
but instead I just sit
breath shallow
and wait
the bus is moving again now
moving away from the stench
moving towards you