Even Now I Live, Desert of a Throat

Information travels faster now,
but our hearts still beat their slow,
insistent, even irregular pace,
making me forget everything I have to face.

It must be perfect, a natural setup,
pacing tape and into the drawer placing a cup,
removing it for a rainy time,
walking outside demanding change from the sublime.

Cutting two into four, unevenly,
dallying on the threshold of the threshing floor,
the wind picks up and I'm away again,
I only see black and white, and tinge of scarlet.

I lack the strength for an engagement,
such as this enraptured pelican implies,
flying through and through my room,
demanding my attention, only to distress it.

The bitter cup visits often,
and when the bird takes flight,
stealing it, I protest and sulk,
after all my talk, I'm still thirsty.