Thick Air
by Gary Hardaway
The air is very heavy today. And thick. You breathe it in and it doesn't want to go and once it's in, it doesn't want to leave. It leaves this residue and it's very hard to catch your breath. Your head gets congested as if the residue has jammed the gears inside your brain. The only thoughts that come are old ones that are so needy they keep circling through for attention or the practical ones like you're almost out of toothpaste.
The air's been heavy a lot the last two years. Maybe it's because this city's too close to sea level but nowhere near the sea and its nice sea breezes. They say that Denver has thin air up there in Colorado. Maybe it's time to move to where the air is thin and isn't heavy and full of residue; maybe new thoughts would have a chance to cycle through in Denver.
Good, thick piece.
(if you haven't been, the first time you see those mountains WILL clear your mind.)
Thanks, Matt. My only visit to Colorado was a business trip around 1984 remembered most for the "thin air" headache of my return flight. I do have a building in Aurora, though, designed in Dallas, which I've never seen in person.
I think the prose poem version of this piece is the way to go, Gary. This form has a more natural feel than the lined version. Also, agree with Carol about the head gets congested portion.