(I’ve traveled to a conference for my day job. Can you guess where?)
Fountains in the Desert
So much water pushed over intentional rocks
I could forget this is a desert
Where mist drifting over lost asphalt
Imbues my skin like cool fortune
Triumphant from a nearby table
In this dayless room with its winners
In a city rare as an oasis
In the wasteland
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 