Gasoline

Every time I fill up my car I smell the gasoline

And I am instantly floated back to my childhood summers

At camp.

As I lift the gas pump the strong fumes remind me

Of the gas-powered boat that my cabinmates and I would ride

As we learned how to ski and tube.

And I begin to feel free as I remember the wind in my hair

As the boat zoomed along the water dragging me and my friends on a circular innertube.

And as we turn the corner the gasoline creeps up my nose

And when we stop

I mention to my friend that I guiltily love the smell of gasoline.

And she smiles and says

“So do I.”

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