Today, the hot sun baked the orange leaves
like toast on the lush over-grown grass while
I meditated on indifference,
apathy amalgamated with acceptance, filling
my heart and chest with a confusion
about whether I should even care
whether it's worth my time
whether I even have the courage.
And as the ground beneath me rose and fell
cars passing me like stars, as I weaved my way
back into the darkness, I remembered
that more often than I ever admit
I was the peahen in Darwin's
big book, admiring those feathers;
the soft, light skin, the blue eyes,
the beautiful smile;
all hauntingly forbidden.
Because, when you've gone
so many days without water,
and the desert isn't getting any smaller,
perhaps it's just easier to lie down
and remember the orange leaves
on the green grass
beneath the empty trees.
Today, I remember, and die;
unable to forget how long
I've been dehydrated.