Air thick as asphalt.

Untitled Poem

The air is thick as fresh-mixed tarmac,
  dark and sticky, hot and new.
Air like this can keep the car black
  but just what am I to do?
I cannot see in air like this, no,
  cannot see the world at all.
E’en could I see, I couldn’t then go:
  air this thick makes engines stall.