I dreamt last night of polluted skies, air I dare not breathe. And no place left to gasp in.

In my dreams, I wrote scathing letters to the editor, and even a note to the prophet, begging him to encourage the Mormons to be better stewards of the earth. Begging him to do something about the color and smell of my sky.
And I threatened Utah that I'd leave. I'd have to. I'd need find air I could walk in and gulp down by the mouthful.

inversion, ck [2004-12-27]
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?2002, Scott & Celeste.