Everything at Once, Once

The woman in front of me on the 4 train

smells like the shampoo they sell at CVS,

that cheap apple scent that hits my brain

like a physical weight, a total mess.

Suddenly I’m in that basement apartment

where the radiator hissed like a dying cat.

No grand romance, just a sudden alignment,

and the friction of rough carpet where we sat.

My knees were raw for a week after that,

and the world felt like it had shifted its tilt.

It wasn't a promise or a velvet mat,

just the terrifying way we were built.