A Keen Nose

I heard her
when she approached
from the only entrance
to our area.
Boisterous footsteps treading
on worn blue-gray carpet.
Overzealous jewelry swinging
to and fro
from neck and ears.
Clearing her throat, she sat.
Sharing a cubicle wall,
I could not see her...

but I could smell her.

The entire room
collapsed
under the weight of her
perfume.
The fast food lunch
clutched in her hands
enveloped me,
spraying me in scents of
BBQ sauce,
microwaved shrimp,
vegetable oil,
lard.

I winced when
the smell
hit my face.
I strained
like a drowning victim,
trying desperately
to savor the remaining
speckles
of fresh air
lingering
unspoiled
in the stale office air.