by Duane Anderson
She said I smelled like grass,
but what a surprise, smelling like grass
after being outside for an hour
edging, trimming, and mowing the grass.
What was I supposed to smell like,
a plate of chocolate chip cookies,
fresh baked bread,
hot cinnamon rolls,
a bouquet of roses?
Made me wonder what I should do
the next time I worked on the yard again.
Maybe spraying a little cologne on myself
before coming back inside the house,
telling my wife that the grass changed its scent
after the two of us went on a special date together.
Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE. He has had poems published in Fine Lines, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, and several other publications. He is the author of “On the Corner of Walk and Don’t Walk,” “The Blood Drives: One Pint Down,” “Conquer the Mountains,” and “Family Portraits.”
Little Leaf Literary Journal 