A broken-down car in the middle of a desert
is not something I considered.
I know I passed a gas station not long ago,
no more than a mile or so.
So, I must walk along a quiet highway
in an early afternoon Nevada desert
with just myself for company
and no water to drink.

Ten minutes in, I spot a vulture
perched atop a telegraph pole.
He stares at me, his head slowly moving
to follow me as I pass.
I stop and his head stops,
I move again, so does his head.
Standing still again, I stare him down
but he doesn’t flinch,
I don’t think he even blinks.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here,
but I cannot stop staring at the vulture.
It’s like he’s controlling me,
or is it the company that makes me stay?
I can feel the thirst creeping in
like a slow poison from a wasp sting,
but I can’t tell my legs to move,
staring at this vulture staring back at me.
Then the vulture shrieks, and I shriek,
and he just falls to the ground, dead.

I run the last half mile to the gas station,
buy some fuel in a can
and a large bottle of water,
and run back to the car,
not even glancing at the vulture as I go past.
I don’t know why it freaked me out,
maybe whatever killed it could **** me,
or just seeing how quickly life can end.
Maybe I felt the companionship break
and I realised how alone I was out here.
Who knows, maybe it was the death ray
from the spaceship that flew above our heads
that I didn’t notice because I was too busy
trying to stare down a ******* bird.

As I fill my car, I notice I have two shadows,
one stationary, the other shimmering
like a mirage of water on a hot road.
It’s a lot brighter out here now, too
Fear grips me and I dare not look up
as I feel my feet lift up off the ground.