Minnesota Prairie Roots

My vintage bottle of April Showers Cologne, saved from the junk pile by my mom, who saves everything.

April Showers

The tarnished bottle cap

twists in my fingers,

harsh metal clanking against glass

as the top swirls,

and then

releases,

unleashing a shower

of childhood memories.

***

I lift the glass close,

breathe in the sweet fragrance

of April Showers Friction Cologne

through a hole no thicker than a pencil.

***

Decades have passed

since I splashed this alluring

scent upon my stick-thin wrists,

into the hollow of my slender neck,

masking the odors

of cows and manure.

***

Transformed, I became

more than a preadolescent farm girl,

more than a sister who shared a pink bedroom,

who left wads of chewed Bazooka bubble gum

stuck on the dresser top

next to the cheap, bottled cologne.

I was somebody

who smelled pretty

and fancied herself

as Cinderella.

***

All this I remember

as I run my fingers

along the glass,

feel the raised imprint

of flowers and letters,

gently swirl the inch of yellow-green liquid that,

like a magic potion,

transcends time.

I open my bottle of April Showers and breathe in memories from more than 40 years ago.

Poem by Audrey Kletscher Helbling, © Copyright 2010

Written in celebration of National Poetry Month in April. Watch for more poetry news in future blog posts.