the perfume of my soul

my face is buried in the rancid sweat

of the neck of a woman who sells newspapers
she lives in a dry riverbed
with criminals, sociopaths and old sleeping bags
normally funny and self-mocking,
today she is afraid
her liver is exploding
she wants a beer
a dollar
an embrace
she smells horrible,
of depleted adrenaline and alcohol,
a scent that i love

text and photo copyright browland 2009