love is noise

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it’s the scent of fleshly
showered, fresh.
but mostly the pluck
my fruit of her hair.
it’s that good. we
pass on sidewalk
and I dawdle my step
just to refresh my
rotten self. maybe
she’s like me.
maybe she’s fleshy
too, just not mostly
core. I turn my head
and she speeds
up to likely be with
her favorite smell;
another human, or
have her dinner, or
what’s the difference?
it’s all a need.
I need little things.
I need little.
I am glad it’ll never
have to be more
from her orchard.
there was nothing
between us,
just the air.
but this is how
to smell in love
every day,
in silent passing.
this is how to
fall for a stranger.
I will shower when
I find home.
I will speed up if
I find home.