An urban vignette

The flower.

Stopped and smelled a flower today. Just now. Moments ago. A magnificent iris flower! A densely purple blossom on the edge of the sidewalk here in Seattle. Smoofed it this Sunday afternoon at about twenty minutes to five. I mean I walked over there, bent over, and sniffed the darn thang. No, no snorting! Stuck my nose into its blossom, tho. Like a lover too embarrassed to be seen mounting his beloved in public. Gently, slightly, carefully yet a bit brusquely I plowed my nose between its petals until they barely touched my cheeks. Lingered a moment all too brief in time, then pulled out quickly lest anyone among the general public would think I was a flower snorter or some kind of foolish and possibly dangerous nutter. 

Oh my goodness, the scent of these blooms stimulated my mild synesthesia. Made me horny as a dog, too! This iris smelled so intoxicating I felt lost in enchantment. For a moment I could barely move as I smelled colors and saw smells and felt sounds all around. As light and shadow turned inside out beneath the brightness of day on a planet spinning toward night, right here within the next moment already passing I realized just how much of a ghost I’ve become. Aye, a damn ghost! Been ghosting thru life as if I was some broken and forgotten clumpenproletariat of chunky concrete abandoned against some godforsaken wall of a cobblestone alley in a rundown factory town on the edge of perpetual shadow. Continue reading →