I arrive to the wind blowing sand into my eyes. I've wandered here, not knowing where here is and where there begins. The air is dry, and so are my lips. In fact I’d say the creek and my flask are the only two things dryer than my lips. And a self-issued slap to the face catches me as my hand finds no smokes to be had in my pocket. I’m outta everything and far from anything. Lying all around me are pictures of lives once lived but no longer. It’s as if I find myself on Mars finding evidence of Martians. And I may as well be for all the good it’s doing. All the trees are dead, standing at a measly five feet or less. Their shape seems to indicate every inch of their life was unrelenting anguish, all twisted and thorned like the heart of Bonnie or Clyde. These are the trees that resemble the hands of the Reaper; crawl in and you’ll never leave. I pass by bits and pieces of broken humanity hinting at others wandering this dessert too. I’m not the first, and I pray I’m not the last.
As I look toward the horizon it seems almost laughable. I watch it white out as it meets the sky, as if someone doesn't want me to see the horizon at all; convincing me to move no farther. The only thing I can make out are the squiggly heat lines dancing to and fro. The tempo to their song seems to quicken, keeping pace with my patience thinning out. I have to admit it seemed pretty pointless to get to this point, and seems almost cruel to make it so. That being said, I’m here and you know why. This was the plan after all. This is where this dance of ours ends. Go ahead. Please bend low, reach out, and draw your line in the sand. I won’t move. The die has been cast.
It’s here in this wasteland we meet. Here. Where nothing else walks, where nothing else lives. All alone in the void of life; alone in the absence of existence we meet. It had previously occurred to me you might not show. You know…I can’t stand it when someone doesn't keep their word. Even so, I guess I shouldn't have doubted. You’re rather good at showing up when I’m past the point of reason. I’m here for blood; let the games begin.
So listen, let me cut the shit and just lay it out there. One of us isn't walking away, and you’re packing air in your holster, while I have a cocked one-way ticket home; curious since you set this up. You stand there, waiting in a mirror like fashion of myself. Ready for whatever hell I think I have left to muster in my self righteous reckless quest for truth. You only smile in that cliche deafening silence. My mind turns into a white walled safe room when I think it should be rioting like cellblock C. It’s time the silence ends. I can’t afford anything more than a scuffle right now, and if there was an option I’m too dumb to see it. A smile won’t settle me this time. It may be cheap, but it’s time to crack those lips and let it flow. For a talker, you sure are quiet. Regardless I heard it’s time for a couple of voices to cause a little trouble. Speak! Can’t you see the creek has run dry?! I need you to give a damn.
I’m done talking, you had better raise a fist. Either you take me out back and finish me off quick, or my hands will find that throat, and wring that towel out. The dove and crow let loose.Between the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder I knew it was over before it began, but I tighten my grip as my breath matches my resolution to hold fast. I pathetically resemble a wannabe cowboy trying desperately to hold onto the bull for a few more seconds. But I have no one to impress, no one cheering me on, this is just you and me. I will not yield, I will not succumb. Not this time. This time you are going to know you have to answer, that you will not leave here without holding up your end of the deal.
With a cherry red smile, I lie here staring into the sky. I think the feeling in my legs is returning. You’re right, simple answers won’t do. I like to think I got a few good licks in, and for a few seconds was on top. There is a simple yet profound gratification to be lying here, exhausted, doing a back float in my blood, sweat, and tears. I have my answer, and I’ll lie here in the pleasure and the pain of my victory wrapped in my own defeat.
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