It is nearly dusk.
Out in the open air
I smell and taste and feel
its humidity,
stifling and stale.
It coats my throat as I breathe in
shallow little gasps.
Droplets of dirty water
cling to the words, and they are
too heavy for my tongue to speak.
The stillness is a blanket over my head;
keep breathing, keep breathing.
I stare at the air above me,
as though the fading light may offer me an alternative.
It slinks away slowly,
waiting until I glance away
to sprint for the trees.
Finally, it has left me alone here-
I see that you have as well.
I stay rooted to the ground
and wait for my impulse to die away.
No moon, no stars.
No streetlights.
Stillness, darkness, quiet.
When darkness comes,
we remain stagnant.

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