The heat remains the same,
the number of days here
does not matter one iota
or degree.
The water boils itself
stucco bleeds brackish sludge
wisteria disappears in a crumble
of saline dust.
My love remains the same,
the number of days here
does not matter one iota
or degree.
Just as long as you stay
love is a cool, cozy warren
in a desert of ash
and pointless prickly pears.
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