The airbrushed advertisement on the glossy back page
Is both scantily clad and iron hided,
Pixel-shaded eyes a bastion against which I dare not delve for fear
Of losing my gilded monocle,
But it still gets my attention after two-hundred millennia. The caption
Reads: ‘Some things in life are not so hard to get,’ and here I’ve proved it right.
I could stop right there and call myself a beast, which I have and which I am for sure,
But the sunlight prods me as I walk on unsteady feet:
I spit my maladjusted pupils on it, it is the same yet unfamiliar,
And I think surely animals don’t take such issue with their existence. They do what they tell themselves,
And we are what we call ourselves.
My light-emitting-diodes and videos of people sweating did little to prepare me for this
Life. Your free eyes made my mirage waver
As you passed.
When I can waive my thirst in exchange for seeing that dunes are as pretty as an oasis,
And I stop caring about where to step and happily slip on the sand before you, my grubby paws
And proud claws dissolving into morning mist in the honesty: well then
That I wanted so badly to have together
Will have long since fallen and spilled itself over the ground.