Synthetic Citrus by Scott Redmond

I am not a silent poet

Coffee shop toilet,

A distinct smell of lemons,

Mingling and twisting and flirting with the before and after smell of a nice latte

‘Yum,’ I think, wiping a lemon juice looking liquid from the seat in front of me,

‘Just what I wanted right now: lemons.’

I search high and low for that bowl of sour fruit to put that screwed up smile on my face,

But no lemons, not even a lime in drag to be found.

Nope, just plugged into the wall at ankle level

Is an air freshener, pretending to be that which I seek.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,

When life gives you lemon scented glade, make lemon scented glade-ade

Or just cry into the toilet.

And isn’t that all life is now,

All that is life is synthetic citrus,

And synthetic citrus is all that is life.


I walk out of the…

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