Ode to Humidity

I step out the door and at once my breath is stolen from me.

Humidity slips down my throat and clamps off passages of air.

It grips my chest like a hellish demon.

I try to run, to get away.

But, humidity slows me down, making escape slow and unbearable.

It tightens and sings "I am not finished with you."

I feel myself getting dreadfully close to falling on the grass,

which is shining and reflecting the sun like a mirror.

I make it to the car and open the door.

Humidity laughs and says, "I live in here too."

Then finally as I take off at breakneck speeds, humidity's grip loosens.

It follows me down the road in waves upon the asphalt.

Oh, humidity, won't you please leave?