HOMEMADE PERFUME

 

HOMADE PERFUME FOR MOMMY

 

I don’t have much money, so I’ll start from scratch,

With scissors in hand, I unhook the latch.

No time for permission, no reason to wait—

A seven-year chemist must master his fate.

Beneath the old sink by the wobbling drain,

Lie treasures to tickle my curious brain.

Bright blues and yellows and purples and reds,

In bottles with triggers and plastic heads.

There’s Brillo for pans and sprays for the bugs,

And mystery liquids in dusty old jugs.

First, blue Windex for sparkle and shine—

Two tablespoons… maybe I’ll make it nine.

Then green Drano for soft, youthful skin,

I swirl it and twirl it and watch it spin.

Three spoons of Pine-Sol to sweeten the brew,

A fragrance to knock a mortician askew.

It still needs color, a festive delight,

So I stretch to the cupboard and flick on the light.

From deep in the corner I grab the bleach,

Four steady pours— just one for each.

Perfection is close, I can feel it ignite,

But something is missing to make it just right.

Ah! Viagra beside a can full of lard—

A splash of that blue should make it hit hard.

Strange Daddy would hide it down under the sink—

It makes his whole face turn rosy pink.

What else shall I add to finish the trick?

Caustic soda? Glue? Something thick?

No— just a dash of good Clorox cheer

To crown this perfume of the year.

The potion now trembles and starts to awake,

It burps and it bubbles and quivers and shakes.

It sloshes and thickens like frosting on cake,

A masterpiece only a genius could make.

The color! The scent! So bold, so divine—

Like sommeliers swirling a vintage wine.

For Mother this Christmas, no gift could be dearer—

No finer perfume has graced this year.