A Perfume

　　A Perfume

　　There were mice， and even

　　Smaller creatures holed up in the rafters.

　　One would raise its thumb， or frown，

　　And suddenly the clouds would part， and the whole

　　Fantastic contraption come tumbling down.

　　And the arcade of forgotten things

　　Closed in the winter， and the roller coaster

　　Stood empty as the visitors sped away

　　Down a highway that passed by an old warehouse

　　Full of boxes of spools and spoons.

　　I wonder if these small mythologies，

　　Whose only excuse for existing is to maintain us

　　In our miniscule way of life，

　　Might possibly be true? And even if they were，

　　Would it be right? Go find the moon

　　And seal it in the envelope of night.

　　The stars are like a distant dust

　　And what the giants left lies hidden in full view.

　　Brush your hair. Wipe the blood from your shoes.

　　Sit back and watch the firedance begin.

　　——So the rain falls in place，

　　The playground by the school is overrun with weeds

　　And we live our stories， filling up our lives

　　With souvenirs of the abandoned

　　Factory we have lingered in too long.