Spurned

 

A desert for acres infinite,

ramble with your thirst,

but if you have a fruit bite it

and suck its spirit, let the seeds

shower on the arid dirt

because this land is known for

the growths of plants beyond any logic.

 

I may find you and shall ask –

“Why am I here meandering?

Perhaps, if this fulfills

the ugly promises of any desert,

my hallucination provides your sustenance.

Again, we are talking about deserts.

Maybe you stumble here, not me;

you talk to me as if I am your oasis

or a cruel joke leading you,

thereby me too, to a slow quietus.

 

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