Friday, August 2, 2013

Poems and Prose #46 - Quiver

There, ahead,
I see the gleaming pool,
the cool,
refreshing dish of water
carved into
the desert moundside.

I lick my blistered lip
and imagine myself
taking a tiny sip,
then a gulp,
then a guzzle,
then drowning
as my lungs fill
with liquid.

Now I turn to walk
the other way,
for I know
no drop of water
could match the
delectability
of those I've just
virtually imbibed,
and I'm in no mood
for disappointment.

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