I smell the echoes of your skin
Like a nicotine breeze,
Fresh brown bread,
Or melted cinnamon butter,
Moving over the other end of the tiny room,
The Chanel activated in scant sweat,
The tantalizing traces of sodium,
The twist of slight citrus.
Sparkle through the air
Like fireflies blooming in bursts
Trailing on the gusts
Of the ever-exhaling A/C.
I close my eyes
And through a second
Stretched across the scented space
Too far away.