You smelled of watermelon sugar, bergamot, and lavender chapstickI liked what you were wearing.
It was a wisdom strength and grace made from a history perforated with heartache.
You wore it across time and into a future of windchimes and rocking chairs-I couldn’t help but be smitten I’d go on for days and tell the tale of the moment I smelled the watermelon sugar, but I am late for my shift at the fart factory-which is what I lovingly call it.
It’s a nonprofit called Farts for Fun.
But anyways, I’ll leave you with this haiku: Too soon to say, but phallic forearm dreamers’ dream can’t shake the feeling
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