I like this town,
far from home,
Miles away from the last person who knows me by name.

No awkward hellos
From friends or foes
Not a single person looking at me for more than a second
to see if I was the person they saw last week
Buying groceries or eating lunch.

This morning I was in the shower,
Full of 15 soaps,
All of which I would get no end from if someone smelled on me
Back at home.

I took a glob of each one of those soaps,
Put it in my hand,
And reluctantly washed myself.

If someone had payed attention to me for more than a second,
I would be given a ***** look,
Maybe followed by a cruel joke,
And I may be oversensitive or weak,
But words hurt.

In this faraway town,
No one would care
Or remember.

The mesh of smells reassured me,
For if I couldn’t discern what it was,
No one could.