Crushed salty rose petals

He takes his phone –
calls his wife,
says he will be late tonight.
His wife hangs up the phone
and puts down
the razor through which she had
shaved her body –
at places most desired.

He has to drop a passenger
who has happy thoughts of bedding
the woman waiting at home.
So he steers his car
into the impatient traffic,
while the hotel windows
on the streets
smell of crushed,
salty rose petals.

Back at home, a knock is heard
at the door;
a nervous 20-year-old boy walks in,
perfumed with roses.

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