Thursday, July 25, 2013

Refill on Ghost Town Road

Canteens empty quickly,
crossing the Mojave,
even in an air-conditioned car.

We exit at the first
(or is this?)
to bring our hoarse throats
to the trough.

Fuel prices through the roof
temperature higher
the desert station's occupied
by an empty cop car
and a pancake-tired van
that might have been waiting
thirty years.

The attendant flickers past
to check the air pump
and fades from view.
(There's plenty of air here.
What we need is agua.)

Stacks of water bottles
glow an eerie blue,
a tempting illusion of refreshment.
We brought our own.
We sneak to the back,
fill them with lukewarm water
from a chipped sink
in the dusty washroom,
and make our escape
before the mirage can fade.

A living town is just around
the next bend.
We fill our saddlebags
with cool, moist fruit
and wonder
is the water really wet?


  1. Lovely I was totally sucked into the scene you created

  2. I hope you survived intact.

    As an evocation of heat this is brilliant.

  3. Just made the trip twice. You can believe we soaked ourselves inside and out in between.

  4. awaken, and find your water bottles full of quenching dust.