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by Gary Beck

This morning I smelled hyacinth.
If I’d stayed near it long enough
it might have driven me mad,
permeating my senses,
driving out thoughts, feelings
out of my seduced control,
swirling with intoxication
far more intimate
than man-made perfume,
leading me to wonder
about our vanities
requiring so many scents.

Copyright © 2019 by Gary Beck

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