Je ne sais quoi.

There’s something in you
I don’t like,
But I come back again.
Your perfume,
a French laundromat,
Still lingers on my skin

Are you a stranger
or a friend?
I swear I know you, though.
Again I lean
to smell your scent,
It still excites me, so.

Let’s dance together
with our hearts
like figures of figues.
We’ll bite the fig
when it’s most ripe,
There’s nothing left to say.