Louie Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I have a thing about all smells,
always have had, I should say odours though,
so many memories will come,
from decades past, the trigger is a scent.

Next to a Black, I'd hold my breath,
they seemed to have a peculiarity,
no pleasant parts at all, even at dawn,
worn pheromones perhaps or simply genes?

Once in an aeroplane I got to sit
next to a momma of Kolkata's rich,
she smelled of spices, wrapped in a bouquet,
and there was body odour mixed and gaining fast.

Then there was the occasion that I treasure most:
He sang a song with scratchy vocal chords,
he smelled, a heavy scent to which tobacco fumes
were added from the crowd and there was pot.

I sat and listened to that wondrous voice, OH, YES,
he sang about how wonderful he found the world.
The odour turned into a balmy summer's night,
I could have sat there, quite forever, and God bless!