It’s so soakingly humid 
That I swim on the pavements 
I glide 
Through the waves of moisture 
Like an eel, 
No, like a duck in water 
Submerged, breathing through new-fangled gills
A chimerical, mystical thing 
The stuff of science fiction and ETs
In a universe of visions and dreams
Morphing, dissolving, changing
Even as I wade on 

When I bring a glass to my lips 
To quench a thirst that sits 
Uneasily, timorously in my throat
There, but not really there 
More habit-driven than the need 
To drench a parched desert inside my skin
I swim into the water 
Like a goldfish, lips turgid
Gut kicking against the liquid intrusion
But the impulse of living 
Compels me to sip, sip, sip
Until I think I’ve had enough 

When I dress in the morning 
Each garment feels like cellophane
Stuck tightly to me, I’m cling-wrapped 
Even though each begins its day airily 
Lightly. I look at myself in the mirror
My forehead is already wet
In the heat of protest
Against the layers I must don
Linen - lying-in wait to suffocate 
Cotton - caught-on my liquified bones 
Fabric, propriety, a proper-riot 
Of ceaseless stickiness 
More fabric, more properness
I ignore the tangled wrangle within 
I now wear also my morning smile 
Even as my upper lip glistens
With the sweat of struggle
Ageless now, muscle-memorized 
I step onto the pavement 
To swim, swim, swim 
In my designated line.