Efi Hatzimanolis #210 spring's untitled air

As I turn the corner, I’m pitched
into jasmine, lemon blossom and daphne
pouring over the fence, into my face and hair.
The bees here are dying of pleasure in a
perfect melodrama of evaporating neurotoxins.
Jasmine’s scent penetrates first. Between the eyes.
Then lemon blossom promises stick to cheeks, 
but how is it that daphne’s longing completes the air? 
Might as well ask spring how to come to my senses, 
eyelids heavy,  insects and flowers everywhere, 
telling me, spring loves a game of truth or dare.