| [ |
music |
| |
I've Seen It All - Bjork |
] |
The clerk smiled as she saw the same nut pick up a personal size grocery basket and head down aisle two. She smiled because periodically this man would return with a basket full of glade lock and hold air freshener and deodorizer. It's a deodorizer that works on the same principle as a bug bomb. Simply push down on the button and it fills the room with a scented fog. The man would buy only about five or six cans at a time. He'd been coming in for about five weeks now. Sometimes he would come in twice a week. He seemed like a normal guy. He was kind of balding in his mid-thirties. Wearing a black leather jacket. And he was always so damn dusty, something soft about his features. It looked like it was make-up, but it was just dust. He payed with a twenty, and said thank you, and left.
When the man returned home he took the glade from the worthless little plastic sack. He placed one of the rug, one on the table, one on the window sill, one under the T.V, and one in the air conditioner. This might seem unusual, except for the fact that his entire apartment was filled with them. Every room. On every surface. He figured he had about sixty of them in all -- Each one's nozzle poised at the ready. He sighed and opened a beer. He started to push down the lock and hold buttons on the canisters, slowly filling the room with a multi-scented fog: Desert Bloom, Evergreen, Misty Rose, Fresh Lemon, Regular and Un-scented, Pot Pourri, Wild Oak, Petulia, Ocean Mist, Musk, Hazel Wood, Irish Nights, Sandal Wood, Rain Forest, Country Kitchen, Orange Blossom, Indian Summer, Holiday Candle, and natural prevention. Calmly he sat on the couch, spilt his beer, and closed his eyes.
A black scarf draped over the baby blue
railing of the concrete hospital-garage stairwell;
there is no scent on the cold wind
to hint at a scarf-wearer,
or perhaps a scarf-dropper,
or perhaps a nurse who,
returning to his wife, child, and
three bedroom apartment,
unwound the fabric from his neck and sucked in
the scentless, timeless, cold
grey afternoon air.
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
dizzywhore_1804's journal