Work has wrecked me, it’s a rough week there, but I didn’t want to leave this place too fallow. That’s what’s always happened in the past, and eventually I end up abandoning the weeds and rusting cans to the internet langoliers. So, to keep some momentum, here’s another fragment, something that I’m toying with…there’s a lot at stake with this one, for personal reasons, and some great stories from the past that tie in, that I’d love to tell if this thing ever fully arrives…but in the meantime, in the spirit of “don’t get it right, just get it written”, here’s something new:
Two Deserts Returned
Weight, and wind, buffeting, still, and still, and still. His feet, contentious with the ground, carrying him on. His eyes on the rim, the drawn horizon, plaything and pretend, can’t be real, not where he is, not now, not with this heat, this heated weight, pressing him into his path.
Ivory dust from a fallen tower. Coating his feet as he staggers away.
Staggering is a good word; staggering fits. He staggers…he is staggering…west or east or somewhere in the folds between. It doesn’t matter, the sun weighs him as he goes, overhead, shadow burned away.