Imbibe the Air

Sometimes, I want to tilt my head aside
under the kitchen faucet and take a long
drenching sip of water, cool water to quench
a thirst of thoughts, a longing of desire,
as it slips sideways in my mind and seeks
to cry, bellow its drought, its bereft and mourning
calls for surcease, for the pause
of breath, of rain.

Sometimes, I just want hydrogen,
its unique mix with oxygen,
to breathe, to drink my sorrows down --
I yearn to imbibe the air,
find full sate amid the falling
drops, as they coalesce to creeks, then drench
my desiccating skin, my hair
this body singed dry by despair --
eyes emptied of tears.

The lake --
that purling plash of waves on sandy shore
still beckons.