Creative Nonfiction

August 15, 2015      

Four Feet off the Ground by George Korolog

i loved to smell dirt i loved the smell of dirt i also loved the smell of women long before I knew why either was important to me i was closer to the ground then in the place where scraped knees and pill bugs were common where dust hovered and stuck fashioning perfect beads of dirt around my neck charcoal and lighter fluid singed the summer afternoon and the hair on my arms following a barbecue there was nothing left but scorched earth then there was the smell of hairspray and Chanel lingering after they had left for the late evening neighborhood party smell that lasted until they came home stinking whiskey the perfume and hairspray gone with a single sucking sound tobacco spewing spitting words that could not be taken back hazardous sparks that burned the nose with sulfur chards I could see ignition from any height standing on the bed or lying on the floor words detonating at every altitude ozone was a warning that’s what I remember a scent falls from the sky carefully hidden inside a still wind feather light waiting for the moment when everything would explode in winter I would crawl under the Christmas tree hiding in the sweet smell of the pine rubbing sap into my fingers so that I could take it with me for those moments when I would hide under my pillow close my eyes dream of jumping into everything without caution finding hope on the way down

OneAbout the author:

George Korolog is a San Francisco Bay Area poet and writer whose work has been widely published in journals such as Southern Indiana Review, The Los Angeles Review Word Riot, The Monarch Review, The Journal of Modern Poetry, The Chaffey Review and many others. He has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His first book of poetry, “Collapsing Outside the Box,” was published by Aldrich Press in November 2012 and is available on Amazon. His second book of poems, “Raw String” was published in October 2013 by Finishing Line Press. He is working on his third book of poetry, “The Little Truth.”

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