through the desert sea

I chiseled out an ancient face
and hanged it in my head
though it was not quite alive as I
was waiting to be dead

we trudged together through a desert
smoked a fat cigar
nibbled on dirty tortoise shells
burned our feet on tar

it went like this for twenty years
or thirty, or probably more
long enough that desert sand
began dripping from my pores

and now my skin has turned to bone
and my pretty name is aging
my ancient face is chiseled out
my brain is disengaging

and though I’m not quite as alive
as I would like to be
I am grateful for my blistering walk
through the desert sea