A Poem in Parts: Part 3

Three days from then

he is back to the bottom of the hill,
reminding himself of Sisyphus as he
pushes his

Ford out of his driveway and into the
street. He was in the mall when he got
under the

notes of her perfume. He had trouble
recognizing it at first. It was almost painful
digging through

the back of his mind, unearthing something
that should have been buried and left
undisturbed.

He found out is was Chanel No. 5. It’s a common
fragrance, he says. But, I don’t have a girlfriend.
The lady

with the perfume bottle blushed, and he thinks
he could ask her back to his place later,
but his mouth

wouldn’t move and he stood there stupidly.
What was it about Helena? Was it the brunette
hair she left

behind on the pillow? Was it the way she cradled
his head after the sex they shared? Was it the
way she sung

“Fly me to the Moon” in the shower after they
both got sweaty and out of breath? Or was it
that he was

finally feeling something. He pushed his Ford onto the
street, got in his car, and drove to dinner with friends.
He knew that

tonight his heart will be broken.

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