Fast Food Smell

There's a certain hour of night
At dusk
When the air has settled
And no one's around
Things are quiet
All but for the traffic in the distance
Nighttime colors are vivid
Peach, white, blue and red
And the smell of fast food on a passing breeze
Is the loneliest smell in the world

The acrid smell of all things fried
Is the tell-all fragrance
Of being stranded
Abandoned
Forced to fend for one's self
In a world so cold it will freeze you to the bone

Something those guys developed in the lab
And put in the food
Has the ability to create angels at dawn
And demons at night
A trick on the mind
Maybe unintended
But one that's as real as the blisters
On your hands and feet

I curse the smell!
It poisons my spit!
It crushes my spirit with its
Uniforms and dirty mops and
Steam, grease, and sounds of locking doors

I take no solace in distancing myself
From the smell of fast food
The stench of the familiar that catches me alone
Vulnerable and often tired
And flattens out the world
The way no other smell can
Just when I need the world to be sweet and round
Like a peach


k.