the Air is more than thick,
It is hot, touchable, an
entity on its own
It clings to my bare shoulders,
sticky and uncomfortable,
heavy like a wet towel
the Air is humid, and when
I breathe it, I feel as though
I am underwater,
struggling to find oxygen

When I finally climb the stairs
and open the red door,
I find myself relieved at the
feeling of chilly air
on my sticky skin
It whisks away the heat
and I shut the door behind me,
knowing that summertime is here