i smell it on my hands, a smell,
like clothes maybe.
or a house i once belonged in.
long gone and fixed up.
i know i know it. maybe i’m insane.
maybe i just haven’t used the downstairs bathroom in a while.
it makes me nostalgic. i don’t know why.
i don’t know how i know it and it’s driving me up the blue painted walls.
i will tear down the coats and smash the mirror to know how i know this smell.
it smells like old love that i ache to forget.
people i once knew.
people i once loved before they shed their skins,
and i wore them as a scarf all winter.
i flick the lock,
the metal lock,
and it washes away the smell.
it is polluted with that copper penny tinge.
so i hold the lock with my sleeve now.