Black Fleck

The air was thick,

a heavy, hot, black smell.

Road crew laid down the fresh new slick,

a story it would tell.

Glistening, dark, it seemed to cling,

a shadow on the street.

A permanence, a solid thing,

impossible to beat.

And later, on my shoe, a spot,

a tiny fleck, so deep.

I scraped it, picked it, what I'd got,

a promise it would keep.

Like some choices, made too fast,

then cooled and set in place.

A mark upon you, meant to last,

without a trace of grace.