Memory Poem

Nostalgic Spice

How a smell of cinnamon can be so

Tantalizing

Especially if that smell coaxes you

To madness
And above all else

Can construct a memorial in the hippocampus

I journeyed to a place where very few

Have not seen already  

A megalithic bazaar  

My transportation blasting me with

Undisputed music of its time while heading there  

My guardian and I enter the great bazaar

Through a darkening underground hall

Where manufactured orange lighting soon illuminated everything

The same color

Even manifesting our skin

The dark hall was polluted

With dangerous toxic fumes and sickening poisons

And how I detested the markets

We would spent a great time lurking about

From one proprietor to the next

Walking started to become something

Meant for the gods

Yet my guardian refused to leave

Being pulled by the strong magnetic force

Of marketing   

Hunger consumed my sanity

Imagining the caramel color floor as if it were

Chocolate cake

But the requiem for my sanity was rescheduled  

When I smelled the aromatic smell

That penetrated the nose

And quelled the restless hunger

I went for the core of the cinnabon

Its sugary cream and cinnamon bread

Disintegrating in my mouth in a blink of an eye