Ozone

your skin smelled like cracked pepper

and rain—at your neck, behind your

bangled ears, where you rubbed

your chalk white wrists together

and where you pushed a dab between your

hoisted breasts in a halter cut low

to intimidate me.

but I helped dress you anyway, in

a burgundy skirt and heels that stretched your legs

to inhuman lengths. I

handed you a beaded evening bag—

a clutch, really—

as you stepped out the door

and into the night,

clicking slowly on tall shoes away.

--RFRY, written Fall 2004

I'm not opening this up for exploration in the same way as the others, but it's an idea of the level of polish/density I'm going for.