Pulling himself across the sand
through blissless heat and swealterland.
Mirages mold by sun's downbeat;
not dine, nor drink, but dinnersweets.
The first to tease his pallate's taste—
mixed mounds of mousse by chocolatehaste;
so drawn to lips of cherrywhile
the sweet tooth lures the childsmile.
But young and sprite and childish seem
desserts by dish of desertdream;
`til champagne and the berrytips
taste succulent to sandedlips.
And licks upon a sugared nape
make drunk the beached like vinyardgrape;
and soothe the craving for afeast
like a sugar grain would (in theleast).
Then next the heat mirage would make
as moist a wetness of finecake
to tease the haggard's hungryeye
with chocolate shaves atop freshpie.
Then longly limbered pastry fresh
like sweet perfumed a femaleflesh.
Soft and sweet by tenderstroke—
a hot croissant or cigarettesmoke.
Then blink and shake his dirty head
for he's not been filled and sweetlyfed.
So squints and trudges desertmore
to taste windsand and sweetsignore.