Smell Ya Later! (RideSharer’s Lament)

This is a true story, absolutely 100% free of exaggeration, embellishment or embroidery.

 

“This morning, a young man requested a ride.

When I picked him up, I just couldn’t decide:

Was his sense of smell deadened from years of abuse?

Or did he think cologne was a valid excuse

To forgo all societal bathing conventions;

I hope that seduction was not his intention,

As women aren’t usually too enthusiastic

When the scent of a man makes their bronchioles go spastic!

 

I wanted to tell him ‘Get out of my car!’;

I honestly doubted I’d make it as far

As the corner engulfed in that odious stench;

But I sucked up my misery, cuz I am a mensch.

I drove him uptown, each minute an hour!

No unit of time could diminish the power

Of that foul perfume, as it dug in its claws –

Surely this bastard is breaking some laws?

 

I tried to engage in some light conversation

But found that I couldn’t ignore the sensation

Of icy-hot knives stabbing into my nose;

Such was the force of the scent that he chose.

My eyes watered freely to try to assuage

That odious odor’s relentless barrage

But I suffered in silence, counting each second

While outside my window sweet SWEET fresh air beckoned!

 

After what felt like days, at last – we arrived!

I honestly couldn’t believe I’d survived.

He set out from my car with a smile and a wave,

Not seeing the under-dash finger I gave.

I wish that I’d mustered the courage to tell him

That even folks living in China could smell him!

I hate that his scent trailed me all the way home,

But at least this ordeal spawned a half-decent poem!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s