i always think of julia kristeva on hot days - how could you not?

it seems so obvious to me.
for what is more obvious than the scent of decay,
rotting food buzzing in the midday sun?
or the sticky itchy tops of arms stuck to slick subway seats?

the air hangs, heavy, with the smells we are usually successful in
pretending we don't have.
in subway cars we ride in tandem,
all these hidden places,
and today

we can smell their presence.

b.o., of course, rampant, stinging sweat choking
the air, but there is also
sickly-sweet piss, bitter shit,
melting deodorant, hair gel, perfume, lotion,
dirty feet, bad breath, farts, dirty clothes, leftovers, belches.
sweaty breasts dripping sweat, sweaty vaginas, sweaty balls.

(i am not being crude.
i smelled sweaty vagina just the other day on the uptown 3 train.
it hurt me to smell it, i cringed, because i recognized that smell for exactly what it was. i know it hurts you, too, because you know exactly what each of these things smells like
and you know exactly what each of these things smells like on you. )

i eat popsicles, i sit in my tiniest clothing
and i wonder
and i think about
how everyone in brooklyn,
how everyone in all five boroughs is eating popsicles,
and sitting in their tiniest clothing thinking

"it's hot. i'm hot. it smells. i smell."