You left me here to die in the sun
You suppose I will grow so weak and I will topple into the desert sand
And the circling buzzards will descend and begin to pick at my side, begin to pick me apart peck by peck

I don’t know why you abandoned me here, why you left me to die in the desert sun
Doubtless you have your reasons
Doubtless you will brag about them around the campfire, roasting marshmallows for s’mores and other innocent pleasures.

I only know that I will not die here in the sun
And I will not seek you out,
will not ask you for an explanation
will not offer you an apology, nor demand one
will not seek revenge

You have left me here to die but I will not die here and I will outlive you, your s’mores, and your pleasures—whatever they end up being.

But that is no triumph
and there is no victor in this story
There is only you leaving me here to die and me not dying but instead picking myself up and carrying myself home and trying again and never looking for you not once in this whole big time when we will both occupy the world

You have made your choice
It was based on a miscalculation
Whatever
It doesn’t matter
Humans have opinions
Only the God Knows

Author: I can’t remember, I have it written down here somewhere
Water and Jeeps Coordinator: Amble Whistletown
Head Buzzard & Gaffer: Bartleby Willard