(SOMETIMES I SMELLED CANDLES, OR COFFEE, OR COOKING, OR PINE; AND WHAT A MOST WELCOME RELIEF.)

MARCH 30, 2013

it was stifling - the air
in that room.
or
the lack of it,
to be more precise.
too much energy expended
for the purposes of
a
locomotive heart
chug-chugging, thump-thumping, cycling
as if in a race for dear life.
precious oxygen
consumed
consumed
depleted
by
a greedy brain
struggling to make sense of this:
the stench
of mildew and old carpet,
the visible dust
just
hanging, floating, clogging
swollen sinuses at war with the
act of breathing.

this
was not some place i’d been once,
but many places. or a collection of them,
green with mold from
the recesses
of
a broken memory, cracked, and
parting at the seams.

i’ve
stood on that shag carpet
too many times before,
sneezing
out
the demons of a rampant recollection.

oh,
but be steady:
things were not always that bad. no, not even close.