THE WANDERER AND THE GAS

Abandoned and left for dead.
hundred- and seven-degree day.
heat fueled the thirst, then the darkness came,
bringing a chill to the plane.
stratus clouds hovered knee high.
a glowing glass bottle in sight,
flowing with liquid vitamins and energy.
only the dying would consume that gasoline.

last drop of gas hits the tongue.
bottled up stratus bits to take back home,
no place to go, but grade A diesel.
wandering, heat stroke, mirages of red bulls,
the desert tells many tales.
they’re the bones in the caverns in the hills.
wanderers, taken by venom from days past,
they saw the glow and drank the gas.