Deserted

I smiled to myself as I watched the three girls sleep, heads all tilted off to the left wobbling as the train stopped. Their bangs revealing a part of their scalp, the girl at the end deep asleep with a different style haircut and color, but just as innocent as the others. Their sleep was in unison, all connected by an invisible string. The old man a few seats down let out a large sneeze, to my amusement, the girls lifted their heads startled in synchrony, yet still asleep. Not even one girl opened her eyes, as they drifted back into a doze.

I sit looking at the changing leaves, whirl past in the train window, the old man smiles with gratitude, that he was able to see the leaves changing at least one last time.

The crisp blue air glowed in gold, breezing through the sides of the mountain. The reds, yellows, and oranges painted the sides of the mountain, with light clouds brushing the tops. The air was clean, after a waterfall of rain climbed through the small mountain town.

I sat wondering, “What shall I eat next? Perhaps I will indulge in some oranges or some sort of red meat.” I could hear a distant sound as if it were a sink, was I awake or asleep?

I felt the sadness pour out of my heart, and I unwillingly awake to realize that I was no longer on the train. My mouth dry, as if I had been eating sand for a few days. The skin on my face burned, from dry winds and the sun’s radiating blanket. My throat dry that I could barely swallow, the thought of water was almost foreign. I could feel the insides of my mouth forming burn blisters, down my esophagus even forming boils on my intestines and kidneys. My body could not squeeze any more moisture, not even from a single fat cell.

I dreamed of my oranges and cold salami, as the desert howled me to sleep and awake.

I wondered to myself “Why would anyone fight for the driest place on Earth? Talk about a losing battle. I could kill for a crisp wet apple though.”

“Unfortunately, as life would have it, the weaker that I grow, the stronger my enemy becomes.”

As I dreamt about the sounds of sinks and trains, I thought of the currency. “So this is what it is like to be a prisoner of your own country.” As my tongue burned for coconut oil, and my gums began to bleed. I certainly did not feel immunity, I felt compromised. As if the dry air could shatter my blisted organs with a small cough. My hair blowing away in the wind, like the dust.

Memories of the dark pond waters from the gardens, reflecting off of the tall glass enclosed building. The aged Karasaki pines and plum trees, dancing in the winds. The yellow leaves fluttered like butterflies in my mind’s eye. The sky filled with tops of temples greenish and gold shinning from the glow of the sun.

I couldn’t help but lay there and think of the war. “To fight over energy was the last thing that I had any energy for, as I laughed out loud to myself.” The hunger was gone now, nothing but a distant lover, for now I only could think of the pain thirst. As if I was sunburned throughout every cell, every vein, every tissue screamed for water.

The gardens of rocks settled in, white dust with splashes of evergreen trees. Small circles in the garden, from a monk earlier that morning. Cold water seemed fruitless, the water would just sink through me, as if I were permeable rock from an aquifer. The ability to absorb water was gone.

I thought of that day at the cafe, how slowly he ate his hot dog. Generations of lessons, lost over a fight for power. I missed the harmless laughter of the school children, their excitement and horseplay. The trees begging to be climbed, the puddles calling to be rolled in. The kids seemed to wait everyday for at least one joke, or a loving thought from their teacher. I missed sitting in the cafe watching the businessmen stroll in groups of three, perfectly connected, through a sly comment.

I was betrayed, we had an agreement to all love and live freely, to live a life filled with adventure. To not give in to the fight for material power and marital compromise. Yet, everyone cowered and married themselves to a woman and a job. And I have found myself buried in two feet of sand, deserted, waiting for justice to be served.

My eyes now just scratched glass from the arid winds. The dunes quietly changed shape over the hours, as I became covered and uncovered in piles of sand. The warmth underneath the mound of sand, would slowly send me back to sleep. As a quirky french violin and accordion played in the tunnel of my memory. The bouncy chords and scales played in a soft distance as I dreamed of a garden oasis. Engulfed in the desert's parched silence, I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.