Endless Blue Sun

My tongue is rough and sore

as if I had taken it out

of my mouth and run it 

on a dusty road for miles.

I can see it

flopping along

like some headless worm

directionless

and blind,

panicked,

as to where to turn.

No water in sight.

Just the sun,

the endless blue

sun.

Somewhere,

there must be water.

My tongue keeps running

from road to road

and town to town

looking for shade,

looking.

But there is nothing

but dust

for my tongue to swallow

and still my tongue
keeps running.