Old Man Smell Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

The Nose Knows

In the elevator in the midst of winter
One doesn’t expect the smell to linger
But there it is for all to sense
The presence of a chemical essence.

As the young lady entered there
Her aroma was one to share
A bit of nutmeg or other spice
By some standards; sure smelled nice.

Then the man just past his teens
Dressed in sandals and torn-kneed jeans
An earthy smell is what you discovered
Probably from sleeping with another.

An elderly lady entered next
With a string of pearls about her neck.
Gloves covered her hands and a prim hat upon her head,
But most distinguishing was the floral bouquet her entry lead.

Next came one who must sell cars or insurance
For the ever presence old-spice fragrance.
Surely said to one and all
This one’s a promoter, without gall.

And the mother carrying her bundle of joy and toil
With the too wet diaper beginning to spoil.
The trace of ammonia in the air
Means there will soon be diaper rash on the bottom there.

What is this the smell of unwashed feet
Seems to come from the professor dressed complete
With rumpled shirt, tweedy coat and English-school tie
Distinguished for sure, I cannot lie.

Standing at attention, commanding the door
Is a soldier, probably home for leave, or more.
Not a hint of essence of perfume
A man’s man, in this small square room.

There stands a petite one, most proper
That for appearance is for sure a stopper.
Wearing the latest fashions of those that know,
And her perfume, warmed by her body glow
Gently adds to the fragrance noticed there.
No cologne or “toilet water” used without care.

Wait, is something amiss, could it be
What in olden days a bag called aspidia.
Suspended around the neck of the one who
Desired to be protected from pestilence, one or two.
(And also rumored if garlic, to protect the wearer
Against vampires, werewolves and the evil eye.
Not to mention diseases like the plague or whatever.)

Some complain of air poisoned by the smoker
But their presence is not noticed in this car,
Surely a pipe smoker with his fragrant briar
Would if lighted fill the air,
And a cigar smoker with his stogie alit and aglow
Would let us all be aware and in the know.
Cigarettes once carried into the elevator with care
Protected against brushing in another’s hair,
But now all are banished from the environment
A Government given reprieve in any event.

But what is it that I sense as the door slides shut,
Something that has been described as indifferent - but.
A smell that comes from the one in the corner
Rank and distinct it is described by another,
Yet can’t be identified by the nose
It’s “old-man smell”, I suppose.
(And if you will care to venture a guess,
It well could be the “old-lady” just passing gas.)

As the elevator comes to a sudden stop
And all emerge to work or shop,
We’re reminded that the “smells” about us
Are there for pleasure, or to disgust,
For the nose knows no bounds on what it senses
As the air passes through the violated sinuses.

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