The Three Perfumes

I sit on a stool this evening
Quietly watching three women walk
Arranged almost arm in arm
Then stand themselves at three seats
Circling around a cozy corner
Of the bar

And catch a cacophonous clash
The pungent friction of competing perfumes
One sharp and musky
One bitterly floral
And one, the sweet vanilla scent of Obsession
I recognize

As I sip from my frosty glass
They eagerly entertain each other
With clearly captivating chatter
And libations lifted in laughter
They shimmy and clap and shout and snap
To the music

They share their slim cigarettes
And tastes of their tropical drinks
And refuse dance requests from the riffraff
Tittering and tightening together instead
Desperately bound and determined
To have fun

A half hour more I head home
With a stroll and occasional strut
Where a dimly lit kitchen awaits
And a living room, unlived-in, lifeless
And wonder which one was wearing
The Obsession

Parker Allen Stacy, IV

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