tonight
i lit a stick from the stash
of incense you sent me
the exotic pricey shit from bangalore
that saul got you addicted to
funky smell good we drove around looking for in every head shop and bodega
from hollywood to santa monica
it’s been so long since i’ve burned any
knowing you would surround me
that i would be engulfed
by a rising tide of anguish
if i breathed your air
like the back of the box says,
“Padmini Perfumed Dhoop Sticks with fragrance that lingers on and on…”
it is you who lingers on and on…
i want to believe there are a few hotel rooms
in los angeles
that still smell like we just checked out
an hour ago
hoping our ghosts
cling to walls and drapes
in the biltmore
places left behind that retain the scent of smoke
of two people who lived deliberately
and fell in love there