dry world


That cracked road puffing dust
at the slightest disturbance

and my dry, too
dry throat

are twins.

Even with Gemini bright
in the sky

up dark there

the pitiful drops that count
as dew in this
evaporative season

don't hold down the tail-
lighted clouds spun
by the car
disappearing up the long driveway.

I can't say goodbye or
even be seen, rearviewed,
waving.
Wavering in the heat.

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© 2001 Chris Magwood