A little whiff of home,
I said to myself as I lit up
a cigar that you and I once shared
in the parking lot of a bar
we weren’t old enough to enjoy.

A little whiff of home,
I thought as the night air
blew right through me
and carried on it
the scent of the wet earth
we found ourselves traveling
upon often.

A little whiff of home,
I recalled as I pulled out
that shirt I wore when we spent
that long ago night together,
huddled uncomfortably next
to each other in your bed made
for one.

I never did catch that scent again.