It started some years ago.
My beautiful daughter, unable to breathe.
Hands on her thighs, chest heaving, wheezing. Scary.
We took her to the doctor.
Asthma from exercise.
He sold us an inhaler.
Two puffs before practice
Two more before games
…and she was never quite the same.
But it is what it is, nothing for it, move on.
Then, some years later.
Our wonderful son.
Same thing, same cure.
Inhaler in the kit bag.
Two puffs before practice
Two more before games
…soon forgotten, lost in the debris.
But it is what it is, nothing for it, move on.
Who thinks of the air, we don’t see it close-up.
It’s warm, it’s cold or it’s cool, it moves or lies still.
Still, so still in the deep Atlanta summer.
Hot, muggy, heavy, air sliced like cake into the lungs
We’re told it gets bad sometimes.
The old and the young, be careful.
On Red Alert Smog Days, stay indoors.
Turn on the A/C, powered by coal,
Smokestacks to the skies, see them for miles, near the college
Like cigarettes.
Just a few weeks back now.
Sainted wife, love of my life.
Unable to breathe, just walking to work.
Horrible sounds, wheezing, nasty. Frightened to death.
She went to her doctor.
Asthma from walking.
She sold us an inhaler.
Two puffs before the office
Two more upon leaving
…is she still the same?
But it is what it is, nothing for it, move on.
Then, this last weekend.
Red Alert Smog Day.
I didn’t know, biked 20 miles
Through quiet Sunday streets, empty
Air heavy, fighting for breath.
Even after, I sucked air in slowly.
Huff, quick breaths, hot, like dry cake
…and no milk
100 degrees, no rain, stay in under the A/C
…energy from coal, smoking to the skies.
Poisoning the air, killing slowly with its song.
We’ll drive away tomorrow,
and think nothing of it.
Gas is $2.68.
What a bargain.
Is it what it is? Is there nothing for it? Can we move on?
How long do we have?
