The heat bears down like spears hurled toward the ground 
and ricochet silently off the brush-scattered hills
A muddy river is my companion
with eight-foot cliffs to give room for swelling
To be trapped here alone and aloof
My only choice would be to follow the
tightly wound wire fence
Even in both directions
I cannot choose a side
and I turn around to hike a steep hill
littered with vegetation
and tough rocks that make a rebounding
clung when knocked together
I am just forgotten by the snake hiding at the gate
I attempt to imagine what the landscape looks like
from one thousand feet high
looking down upon my sweating
sun-scorched body
“Maybe an airplane will drop an umbrella for me”
I say to the nearest living thing I see
Or maybe I shouted it in all directions
Confused, I start to wonder
what happened to the green out here
It is lighter and browner
With hills thrown about like a toddler throws his toys
“Maybe this is my desert”
I say to the orange caution cone
that just caught my peripherals