Indira Donegan - The Trouble With Running

My biggest fear
(next to machete wielding 8 year-olds)
Is dying of dehydration in my sleep
Before a thorough session in a confessional.

I awaken, stifled and miserable,
Only to rise and see a
Body outlined on my sheets, my own
Sweat vice the traditional chalk.

My living trailer is an Easy-Bake oven
Offering no shelter from the heat.
A literal hot-box minus the normal
Indulgence of the term.

I submit to the Sudanese sun
- tap out –
No contest.
I am beaten.

The taste of hot water,
(believe me it has a taste)
The mind numbing routine guzzling every day-
A chore, a necessity, a physical requirement.

The elements serve as pre-civilized
Regression therapy.
In a heat induced stupor I forget the
Task at hand and trance into memory.

You have followed me here
To the edge of the sun baked earth.
(God Damn it!) You are closer to me
Now than the SPF 50 I just applied.

Tragically, I will return from half-way across the
World, my great escape from nothing
At an end, perfectly hydrated, with a handful
Of drawings from crayola wielding 8 year-olds.

My biggest fear,
Waiting patiently
At the airport.
Still undealt with.

Indira Donegan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trouble-with-running/