I miss the Scent of City Girls...Edit 4 thanks to all

[tectak]

I miss the scent of city girls: cold nights,
dark streets, fast food, gas lights. ...gas lights in 2016? or 2011? I googled 'Paris street lighting' just to be sure, but found nothing that suggested that they still live in the past. Unless you mean neon lights, but better cliche than confusion. See end note
I like the girl who wraps herself
in a thick-cloth coat and a woolly hat, ...is the second 'a' needed? Generic. Different girls, different hats...hence "a". I was in London for two years
that hints of coffee and polluted air ...the 'coffee' acts as a spoiler to the beautiful 'milky latte' later on. I would think that a wooly hat and thick coat would hint more of cologne than coffee.  'Polluted air' is bad. Yes. It was. Better alternatives are 'city air', 'smokes' (not smoke), 'superslims' or 'Karelias' (the brand) - but better 3 syllables than 4 or more.
and if you  kiss and draw her in
her whole day lingers on her breath; 
milky latte, quickly taken,
emotive  as  a moist, warm breast
exposed to chill night wind. ....above 5 lines - super

I miss the risk of misconstruance;
that slipping, cautious, certain sign .....3 abstract adjectives. 'Slipping' is best - do something with it. 
from  one shared  cigarette.
You light two, she takes one… ...ellipses  I love ellipses. I think ellipses. I am not a bad person
but she  does not inhale. .....do you need to repeat 'she'?
Open mouthed then lips tight pressed,
white pleasure swirls and permeates.
You stop, for just one murmured moment; ....'consent' rather than 'moment' makes more sense here, given that you're about to bum a drag off her Fuck me. What happened to romance? Bum a fag off her? Alliteration wins. I will still look at it though. Thanks
a trick you know so well. You draw her close.
She lets you take  her round the waist.
Her hair is in your face and you  suck deep,
draw back then gently place
your yearning cigarette between her lips.
Before the smoke has gone....a kiss. ...ellipses  
And while the intimate exhalation swirls,
you slip  a hand, an arm, but slowly,
through her outer fabric shield.
Soft buttons pop, warm comfort yours,
and with a faintly wanton word,
she lets you in. ....and afterwards, when the pizza delivery girl comes over dressed like a cheerleader nurse, does she check out the size of your double bed? Unrealistic. Not in my world. Vera City

I miss the scent of city girls,
that whiff of  baking bread and Danish spice.
The  city girl  who shares with “others”, ...why the quotes? They will be gone. I did it this way to indicate the fluidity of flatmates. I never knew who would be there next day
a flat above a  bakery, and wakes at four a.m. ...nice
as up through  loose, bare floor boards ...nice
comes early  yeast-filled streams...nice. How about 'yeasty'? I had yeasty but it was  strangely urinous(and if that ain't a word it should be)
that dream her day awake. ...convoluted Hmmm. I think you are right

She bathes in turn, in a cold, damp room
where yellow and smoking the gas flame lives, ...ugly inversion ...and right again
sharing the  grubby, gurgling boiler
with  city water; the chemical cologne
of  her fresh washed hair.
Her tresses frizz  in the khamsin blast ...perhaps 'khamsin of / the turbo-fan' 
from the  turbo-fan, stylising
and  instant drying.

Her deodorant spray ( should  last a day )
will die some time in the afternoon
and then she is mine.  
She dresses from a wooden chest ,...nice detail
lined with crumbling paper of napthalene blooms; ...nice
painstakingly painting her daytime face ...nice
of eyes wide-open, lips plasticised
and glossy red.

Each morning she stops at the corner café,
picks a croissant and tears it open,
though too hot to hold. Her  coffee arrives,
a little colder; still, on its surface
she  pursed-lip blows.
Her perfume, raw from lack of purpose,
joins gladly with the steamy  sweetness;
up it goes into her complex cocktail,
into her cassolette. Then you are lost in the city ...nice
with a city girl.  

Tectak
August 2011
Note. Forgive me old hands but I have been tinkering with this one so a repost is due. Opinions new and old, please. It's not over yet.

It began to drag after 'dream her day awake', but is otherwise full of good descriptions.
Perhaps it might be a better idea not to combine the two themes of 'I miss the scent' and 'Life of a city girl' - it's a strange first / third person hybrid, this poem.

Note from the original:The poem was a nostalgic throw back to the mid sixties. Wandsworth Bridge and Covent Garden (still lit by gas street lamps today) the setting. On cold nights the unburnt gas from the lamps dropped on contact with the cold glass and if you were standing below, which many did, the stench was memorable. Covent garden had a plethora of eateries which chucked out the fast food of the era, usually involving deep frying, and this scent ,too, became emotive.

The rest of your crit is worthy. I eat all crit. Changes are coming. You will be credited accordingly.
Many thanks,
tectak[/b]