Donkey doodle hay day kinda ride.

The scent of it alive in his, in her, memory. Always. Yet, only always an alive memory. That’s all. They make it out to be more than that. We all do. It is how we play the game of life. It is how we live. Sniffing our way around it.

“Quite the ride.” “Yes, a memorial one.”

It was a conversation often had, yet left unspoken. Words are merely vibrations after all. No matter how memorial. Real? Unreal? True? Untrue? Who can say?

“Yes, quite the ride.” “Donkey doodle hay day ride, kinda ride”.

Whatever that is. He liked to play with words, you see. So, this would have been something he could have gift wrapped and handed her with a smile. “Oh, you and I in the donkey doodle hay ride days, baby. Remember? You and I. Dancing on the tiles before the tide came in, in the pool. Swoosh. We had a blast. It was good. Hey, hay. Do you remember that baby?”

“I remember Mr. Jones. I do, but you were untrue and it was untrue and so I had to get off the donkey and on with my life. I had to be stubborn like that. A real mule in fact. I drained the pool before I drowned, I drained it. Mules don’t go anywhere. It is empty now. It is dry and cracked. Easier to walk on than water. We weren’t all we were cracked up to be. Yet, it is still deep. The pool that is. Deeply so.”

Meetings at a cheap motel. In truth, it had all been a cheap motel. But let’s not tell them this.

Donkey doodle hay day kinda ride.

They do not know yet. Better left unknown. For now at least. So as to romanticize life. My spell check say aromatise … yes, maybe that is what we do. Let’s correct that.

So as to aromatise life.

Let them live with their memorial, aromatised take on the ride.

It smells so much better than the scent a cheap motel.

“Horrible motel you took me to, I think. Off-season too. Nearly closed in fact. How cold it felt. Florida on the coldest New York winter day. Like the winter of 2015. No donkey doodle hay ride kinda day after all. No scent of that. No.”

“Oh but hey hay baby, no it was not that. Let me refresh your memory.”

He liked to play with words like that, you see. Play with the scent of it all.

The game of life.

What is the true scent of life?