Bath Time MAG

April 20, 2009
By Lady_Dove BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
Lady_Dove BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The Shampoo is the one
We used to clean the dog
When I was young.

I cannot smell flowers
When I use it,
Only clean dog.

The suds collect between
The strands of my hair
And glitter like rhinestones
On a flapper's undergarments.

The conditioner is the gag gift
I got on my sixteenth birthday.
My friends said it smelled like
The pine air-freshener
I kept in my beat-up old car.

The pine smell mixed with the rose salts
Reminding me of the cover of a Vogue ­magazine
That I stole from my mother.

The model was perched on a rocky river bed
Like a wood nymph
The Vogue photographers just stumbled upon.

The soap is the licorice one
He gave me for our one-month anniversary.
He said I was not a vanilla girl
And should not use vanilla soap.

The soap bubbles clung to my skin
Like pockets of previously unexplored
Intergalactic space.

I pull the drain and watch
The cloudy water tornado out.

I take a deep breath and sigh.
It is nice to smell like myself.


The author's comments:
This poem was almost exclusively inspired by the fact that every time I breathe a whiff of Suave shampoo, all I can think about is my girlhood summertime and cleaning the dog under the omnipotent southern sun. By the end of our adventure, both I and the dog are exhausted and lying panting side by side in the yard, and there's this smell all around me. There is a smell that has been burned forever in my mind as clean dog, which means something entirely different to other people. Through poetry we are meant to express ourselves and here is Suave shampoo, which has become a part of me, but belongs to a since we largely neglect in poetic verse. Bath Time was meant to share with the world what my nose knows about me and through me, The World.

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