i flashed back, in my mind, to the night on the hammock. to later to the night the girl stopped in boston because she smelled honeysuckle and thought of me.

i walked to the honeysuckle. thought of a girl named val and how i wish she smelled this.

plucked a sprig. held it to my nose, inhaled.

walked back to the car.

sat for a moment, breathing in the honeysuckle.

letting it fill my lungs. letting my lungs transport it into my bloodstream. letting my blood move it through my heart.

i stuck the sprig on the dashboard and drove to work. at work i pulled into the parking spot. looked at it for a moment.

stuck it into my shirt pocket.

kept it there all night.

during a slow period i leaned against a counter, reading the newspaper. inhaling, through my pocket, through a vest, i caught the scent of honeysuckle.

throughout the night honeysuckle would surprise me. turning my head just quickly enough, moving this way.

work ended and i left. sat in my car, pulled the honeysuckle out.

slightly flat. petals having fallen a little.

aroma as strong as ever.

if she came up to me, smelling lightly of honeysuckle behind her ears, my insides would no longer exist.

all i would know, inside, is blue warmth.