My Stinking Life

On this hot summer day, I venture to the County Fair. The rancid crowd with a sour tang of perspiration emanating from their unwashed bodies seem to exhale in unison as I pass. I am repulsed with the stench of foul breath stinking of stale alcohol, cigarettes, bile.

Passing the fetid line of reeking port-a-potties, pungent and biting sharp air – I decide I’ll wait.

On to the sickening smells of fried everything: snickers bars, onions, potatoes, and doughnuts. My gag reflex is put to the test.

The animals swelter in the heat. The sow simmering in her juices with a cloud of flies as she flops in the mud to temporarily repel them.
The loamy dirt smell of the goats that repeatedly relieve themselves.

The oily smell of machinery: the ferris wheel, carousel, and bumper cars in motion overwhelm the senses.

Time to go home.

Home is different now. I grew up with city smells: car exhaust, polluted air, urine, greasy diners, spoiled rotting trash, and filth.

At home today with my favorite food smells: ground cinnamon sprinkled on freshly brewed coffee,
garlic butter on warm baked bread.
I inhale deeply and smell fresh cut grass, the eucalyptus a bit too syrupy thick, wispy floral sweet smells of lilac, wild flowers, chamomile, wheat fields.

Walking toward the lake I am hit with the smell of a dead carp rotting near the shore. I’ll take even this smell over the smells of the county fair.

*Thank you Zoe for your art. 😉
Nosey Delights
From the yeasty warmth of freshly baked bread to the clean, summery haze of lavender flowers, we all have favorite smells we find particularly comforting. What’s yours?

4 thoughts on “My Stinking Life

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s