On the side
of a dried riverbed
we sweat off
the tires
back-breaking twist
over hot asphalt
all that laughter -
mirage
in the distance.


Tears, weary
perspiration or
perseverance - no
matter
the rivulets
all mix
with dust
indiscriminately.


Thirsty ground
doesn’t question
where
moisture comes from -
just
accepts it
gratefully
heaves
a dry sigh of relief


when the tow
truck growls
over the highway’s
laryngeal prominence
I swear
the horizon swallows,
scoffing
our good intentions, or
effortless
progress.