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Sunday, February 27, 2011

Oasis


The paths that we lay upon this paper
appear.
Barely.
Smudged off by fingers that leave telltale
prints on other's necks and cheeks.
The signs that we cut are brushed close
with wretched branches that fall from
ancient trees.
These landmarks and coordinates are hazy
as we suffer from hyperthermia.
With dry leathery tongues
and dusty breaths we continue
to waste our short time with
talk of water.
Water.
Water.
Follow these hazy tracks
with double, now triple vision.
Search for an oasis that will hold
your writhing body close to the shade
and away from the flame.

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