last night, a bath. a bath bomb. i put it in the water, knowing the fizzy thing that would come about and fill my tub with scent but this bomb had surprise. this bomb fizzed and turned my bathwater a perfect pink color (not baby, not hot, just pink) and as it disintegrated, a small pink rose emerged. not a real flower, mind you. a soft spongy non-scented bath rose that, oddly enough, fell into petals with saturation. i picked up a petal and tried to rub it into my skin, but it just crumbled up and so clearly it was not a soap substance. then i place two petals on my out-of-water nipples (i always thought nipples looked a bit like upside-down flowers) and i loved them there and they stayed there for the rest of my bath -- through two poems and an article about turkish pistacios.

today i walked to school. crushed acorns and touched the leaves (as i always do when i walk alone), and sang fairy tale songs. rounding my last pre-campus corner i reached up to scratch my head, and became overjoyed. my arm smelled like roses. perfectly rose, my skin.

i can only hope this lasts the day. i feel that no one can help but love a rose-scented girl.