First, I thought about molasses. It was just so darn Southern. Moving slowly through the thickened air, the light somehow shifted as well, more diffuse.
Then the thought: Well, molasses is a little extreme. I mean, picture molasses. This isn't quite that.
Maybe syrup?
Whatever.
Southern.
Thick.
Textured.
Personalitied, like you don't necessarily expect air to be.
Yesterday, stepping outside at 6-something (that's a.m.), into a wall of it.
gasp
Already?
Already.
Rowers, drenched from river exertions. Uni's dripping onto the locker room floor. Not from washing.
And it built from there.
One degree from a record tie, nailed 3 full digits.
Today, people outside Trader Joe's, blinking, almost stupid in the face of it.
Me among them.
Slightly stunned in their shorts and loose dresses, short haircuts.
Boston, summer.
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