Bren Bataclan – Ginisa

Bren Bataclan


you smell like your house
I did not know what they meant
I took a mental inventory of my home…confused
then they pointed out the obvious

it is in every fiber of my clothes
the sautéed garlic, onion, and foreign spices–ginisa
it clings and hovers until you do not notice anymore

I walk outside confident
thinking that by bathing in cologne, I could set a disguise
but the unavoidable mixture of who I am lingers

they not only could see and hear
they could smell it as well
I wonder how I tasted and felt

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