I CAN'T HANDLE YOUR MAN SCENT

I can't handle your man scent, sent through the air to ruin my life. It floats over the poplar trees, under a dog that tries to bite it as it goes past, through a nail salon, curving up and under the ladies nails, doing a little twirl around each woman, and each is aware of a presence, but the scent is not meant for them. When it finally reaches my nostril, my legs collapse and I lay there dribbling on the sidewalk, knowing I am ruined.