The current climate was hot. A dry heat. I saw this heat radiating off the desert sand. The thick silence, fierce, hot as hell; so goddamn quiet, it was comparable to a brazen wrench clamoring around in a redlining V8.
No change in geography was in sight. The horizon, fisheyed, as if ballasted upside down with gravity pulling it up, lacking in promise as much as it was in fecundity, was poised contently in its unchallenged reign.
I lay helplessly rocking on my backside, naked, no friend to help me, no foe to end my misery. All I could do was look up, look to my right, look to my left, and look down at my brown, arched abdomen, divided into rigid, bow-like sections.
As I felt I’d already exhausted my day’s efforts of getting on my many feet, I decided to distract myself from my plight, thinking of pleasurable things - dry martinis, coitus with valiant interlopers, etc - and fell asleep.
Day in day out day in day out.