Duplicity

Living in a bog
with dead sheep
has never smelled too great.
Rotting carcasses rarely appeal to my olfactories.

Some of my most cherished memories, though, are associated with mud.
The mind and heart are contrary historians...
Maybe it was the revelation wrought upon by lacy lingerie;
Perhaps it was the goose-pimple-evoking sprays emitted from the garden hose.
Possible neither mind nor heart were involved.
A certainty is this: a shower never felt so refreshing.

Sometimes the stench remains
despite the soap and shampoo.
I've just learned to put on lots of cologne.
(even though frequently the cost is too great for me to obtain it...
maybe I'm just a cheapskate?)

It is a rare occurence
but once in a while
someone will comment,
"Dane, you smell really nice!"
Moments like these
ignite desires in me
to build a real house
and burn incense
all day long.