It would seem as if you’d scarcely begun, and yet
you’ve been stranded in this desert for weeks.
They warned you about all sorts of menacing things.
“If you’re bitten you’ll fall before a hundred steps.
That’s only if you encounter the one.
If it’s the other you’ll drop dead in merely two
or three.” Finally, your conviction ambles up,
comes to your rescue like a braying ass.
“Where the hell were you, you loathsome thing?” You saddle
him and ride on, suffering his lame excuses.
“Look out!” chortles the ass. “Viper ahead!”
“Can’t you keep your mouth shut for a minute?” you cry.
But there it is, peering beneath your sombrero.
You finally slow to a complete stop,
staring into the eyes of the Hundred Pacer.
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