View from the Ground Floor

Raindancing

There's a scent in the air. A scent so powerful that I can feel it dew upon the tip of my nose and breathe out onto my Cupid's bow. It forces me into a pout and for angel wings to sprout from my ears. I can see it perspiring on the ends of my fingers, eager to seep into my pores. A scent that kisses my neck, so gently I can scarcely tell and dresses me head to toe in hallow colors. How it feels, I can only wonder, to walk amongst this and love.

I decided to follow it once, desperate for more, to let it envelope me once again. I was able to cut through the sky and push through the ocean to chase it, lead by the heat swelling in my face. My legs grew strong at the prospect as if my feet simply forgot to tire. You don't believe me, do you? Perhaps you shouldn't, I probably wouldn't. You wouldn't know until you've felt it caress your jaw like I have and take away the thirst that water never could. I've seen it. I've watched it lift the dirt from under nails and clear the cobwebs hidden in the darkest corners. I've watched it seal the holes in the ceiling, shoo the crows from the field, and pacify the restless babes of solemn mothers.

I found myself before a gate, gleaming brighter than anything I had ever seen. Upon closer inspection, the metal was plated in glitter and spotless dreams. The gate let off a chill unlike any other I had ever known. Imposing and regal, closing my very throat beneath the pressure of its dominion, yet familiar as the indentations you could only find in your own bed. I wondered why, then, the gate stood open for me. Only briefly, however, before my feet carried me forward once more, chasing an aroma that enticed me so.

Beyond the gate, when the wispy clouds and cherub feathers crowded around the corners of my vision, I allowed my mouth to drop agape. The sight before me, too jarring to be what I what smelling! Too repugnant to possess an aroma so sovereign! I would reject it if it were so! But there it remained, embellished in moss and debris and soot. The birds here squawked in lieu of singing their melodies, flapping their wings with asthmatic rhythm. Grey seeped into everything and chased away the stars on my skin. Even my mouth I had to close for fear that my teeth my loosen themselves and join the spiders in far corners.

Rain began to pelt the ground and ran streaks of grey into my hair. You laugh again and point my gaze another way.

A woman, few teeth in her head and sweat gluing her surly hair to her round face, sat atop a rickety chair, chipped and creaking terribly. She was crocheting with rusted needles and shaky hands and a cat, patches in its fur, pawed her shoeless feet. Gray from crown to sole but smelling as divine as God herself.

And she looked at me, head cocked and a smile so coy.

"Don't you know," she told me. "Your had posies in your nose?"