scents ... or nonsense?

“cassia, cassia,” he whispered.
I found him, swimming in my eyes,
Strokes followed swirling strokes,
Gulping down orris each time
his head went below the waves of confusion
Arms flailing, fingers scraping
against the walls of my drooping eyelids.
Omelets and fried fish beckoned
through wisps of aroma, and mom standing at the kitchen door:
"Pie", and quadratic equations
Rumbled against my tummy.
I grouchily santaled into another Friday
As he scurried back to his hiding spot
“You’re quite a valerian,” he threw back my insult with good humor—
that quick flick of nonchalance, light, so very light.
The humble smirk, explained it all.

(a lil' something 4 class, a lil' something 4 my day)