Tar

I'll always remember
the summer
they tarred the roof of the building opposite
The hot, thick, heady scent
weaving through our windows
setting us sleepy,
stinging noses and
furrowing brows into numbing
headaches - heat and tar,
walks at midday with air so hot
you could cut it with a knife.
Every middle distance quivering
with a haze
of this neverending heatwave,
no rain for weeks,
sometimes that catch in the air
of
a promised thunderstorm,
then nothingness,
just heat - dry and cloaked,
scorched grass,
high blue skies,
talk of how it's never been like this,
and the smell of tar:
rich and chemical
shadowing us as we walk.