The savory bouquet of summer flowers—
roses, honeysuckle, wisteria, jasmine—
perfumes the afternoon air
and comingles and merges with
sundry other fragrances
also permeating the air:
the aerosol can room freshener scent
of a pesticide recently sprayed,
poison that smells like perfume;
the fetor of decaying matter
that exudes from the compost heap,
nutriments stinkier than poison;
the fragrance of freshly mowed grass
and the acrid smell of glyphosate,
with which dandelions were recently doused;
the appetizing, mouth-watering aromas of
burgers, weenies, sauce smeared drumsticks
sizzling on a charcoal grill;
the pungent smell of the open fire
and glowing charcoal briquettes;
the lingering odor of lighter fluid;
the alluring aroma of perking coffee;
the catty scent of beer gone flat;
the reek of tobacco smoke and vapors.
Such is the menagerie of fragrances–
some sweet-scented, others fetid—
comingling in a summer backyard.
Sorting them out, one from another,
the redolent from the miasmic,
is a task of Sisyphean proportions
when they intermingle and meld
and the salubrious is stenchy
and poison smells like gardenias.