Progymnasmata

Potent, acrid, & grimy --
the thing smelt like gasoline
and dirt

rubbed together
like a hippie worry bead
wrinkled

probably torn & soft as tissue
paper even by then
despite

his hands, which could not help
but paw the letter in his
pocket

Who knows what it said?
I sure don't. The ink was rubbed off when I
found it.

But I could still smell his workman's hands
when I brought it to my nose
and down

again to the jimson weeds that grew
by the shed where he worked
at night.