(A day late and a dollar short, another first draft to endure. What can I say? At least the paper isn't blank anymore?)
Mystics walk Arizona
Burning
Across days and deserts
Beneath a blue flame sky
Our bodies
Wet from Indiana
Wonder at the signs
Do not enter when flooded
We never see rain
Is thirst the same
As desire?
The mountain finds us
Shivering in the pines
We cling to each other
Because we want to survive
Water trickles
Down our spines
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