Warm clothes out of the dryer —
the scent hooking its aromatic
arms around my neck,

like a college girlfriend
before a kiss in the laundromat.
And something, long-buried, rises

like a serpent when Seduction
blows her snake charmer’s flute.
Is this why the sight of a fresh

line speedbags my heart,

like that of a child’s
before summer break,
or why the smell of detergent

calls me like a lover into
the laundry room before
she pulled me between her

open legs? Her lips —
warm and wet — ready
to take my tongue.