I know thirst
I know it well
Know it like the red burning sky
I swallowed at the age of three 
the days I ran on empty    
the scorched cracked earth 
under my feet

How I looked through 
window’s bottomless glass
waiting waiting waiting
for the miracle   of rain

Thirst
as in riverbanks and riverbeds  
the beds of all my lovers that ran dry 
as in
the longing for that cool elixir 
to soothe the aching wound of a life

the look of thirsty…
Men who all but swallow knowledge 
swallow dreams    swallow love—  
their dry parched lips that once parted with desire
now parting   with regret   with sorrow
parting with lovers—
women who are thirsting for something—
a man maybe to pump them with desire
to fill that black hole of space
Unquenchable in their search
for the wet promise that might sustain them

It’s all a matter of how you look at life   you said   
you who wanted for nothing
you who once milked me dry
you who polished off an entire ocean 
without offering me a drop
The glass is half empty or the glass is half full  
you said you said 
The loss of empathy is the drought of humanity  
I replied    and sighhhhhed 
licking my own lips

Thirst   I know it well…
How deep is my well!
that dry dry well 
The tears that eventually well up  
I know them well   too 
I alone  now
for a quarter of a century
thirst is all I know