I couldn’t blame
the door-to-door salesman,
although I surely would have liked to.

The musky smell of his deodorant
lingered
in the corridor
for days.

I felt like I was in a screenplay
from a 1950s Hollywood film,
except I had forgotten all my lines.

A siren on Main Street
burned a line of sound
in the back of my mind.

The taste of bile rising,
sooner than expected,
in my throat.