The Scent Of One Woman Poem by James McLain

Brushing up against me.
Her scent,
not in a bad way it was,
heavy and thick, hung in the air.
Pungent it was rich and indulgent.

While her accent by magnetic forced my eyes
to watch her thick rich lips that made me.
Immediately I think if I stood up I could not walk.
Her scent would fill me up.
So powerful that it mingled with my taste buds.
I could reach out and close my eyes,
and savor the creaminess pouring out into her belly.
Feel the smoking musk running deep into my throat.
It would surround not only me,
but stay with me long after she had left the others.
Cutting through them walking by me.
It clung to her always.

No shower or swim or hard day's work could erase it.
The perfect mix, of all her other vices.
Sitting in the very back of the subway.
Both are riding it back home.
Without ever hiking up her checkered mini skirt,
she would change her pink panties for the same style of black ones.