Oxygen

Just like everything else, air falls

Cascades down my lungs and back again like a child on a playground slide

In and out, day after day, year after year, decade after decade; but my mouth never tastes stale

My air was cool and salty when I first saw the ocean

On blinding cliffs littered with unclaimed firewood

And hands that held mine like we were crossing beams of light in a black, starless universe

My air was sweet when I breathed in the dust that fell from the hermited rafters of my first house

And when I saw the tall grass that was perfect for trailblazing, right in my backyard of my second

And when I found the blackberry patch behind the fence of my third that held more thorns than fruit

And when I saw the bowls of ammonia laid out by the landlord to wash away the scent of the dog that the previous renter had had in my fourth

And when I saw the ants stream out of the shower knob in my fifth as if I was the invader in their bathroom

My air was bitter when I got second place in a gymnastics competition

The air didn't curl around the hand of half-hearted salute

But the bluster of scolding my coach gave me on thankfullness and respect made sure that hand rose to its fullest height

I would tell you how the air tasted when I found I did not get into the art school I wanted to but at the time I couldn't breathe

I would tell you it tasted like reflection, or like the welcoming ebony of a baby grand

but the piano has been in storage for years and years

and I've been coughing more and more

The air is still fresh to me

My lungs don't stop even when they're screaming so loud they block out my mind

They're not allowed to

I still have many mundane things to breathe through, and if I'm lucky a few more special ones

The air is still fresh to me, but I wonder how long that can last