Jergens Lotion

I remember riding in the car,

dad driving, mom shotgun,

me in back, windows open,

hair blowing,

smelling Jergens lotion.

My mom had Jergens

at home, but I don't remember

ever smelling it there.

I remember dense green rows

of corn whizzing past,

the smell of Jergens lotion.

Brown stalks beheaded,

a snail crawl in the car

hunting for pheasants,

the scent of gun oil,

smelling Jergens lotion.

Drive-in theatre,

speaker hanging on the glass,

popcorn smells weaving

car doors slamming,

kids screaming,

the smell of Jergens lotion.

Maybe I didn't need any lotion

when I was a kid, I never had my own,

but I always knew

that when I grew up

to be a grown woman,

I'd use Jergens lotion.

Note: today's prompt was to write about a smell and a memory. I'm not done with this poem, but the day is nearly over, so I'll come back to this one.