I came here to die

or write the truth

They left me behind

the car with no roof

I have little water

my throat so dry

Pen and pencil

can't sketch this sky

There is no sky here

only a white sheet

I smell summer linen

a snake at my feet

It's all curled up and

looking dead

All but its poisonous

little head

Red tongue flicks out

i feel the sting

Finally able to sit

and write this thing

Waves of heat rise

before my eyes

I'm going blind

before i die

Now this thing will

not get written

The desert got me

and i am smitten