Dunes

Out on the dunes, you could be walking on the moon
Maybe you are, maybe we are; see that planet in the sky?

How much more can be said about body heat, about
Sucking the marrow from bones in a vain attempt to quench?

Disheveled by dust-storms in an ocean of sand, we walk
Blank-window eyes searching for what, some sort of life?

Our feet are heavy, the ground wants to eat them; no moon, this
Now the sky is the color of sand, and there are no stars to wish on

Sweat and dead weight, we wait for the coolness of night
Fatigued, delusional, we see a rusty car approach; we get in