Tundra

Short arctic desert day --- And someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra. Look around every which way But I can't see just where the footprints go. Is it a casual disappearance? --- Plucked from the middle atmosphere Like straw wind-blown. No speck on the horizon --- No simple message scrawled Upon the snow. Unearthly visitation --- Someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra. Hungry buzzard flier Circling round and round Rattling death's tambourine. Have to run it down the cold wire --- Late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found. Should I spread out searching? But I'm a little thin upon the ground. So I raise my lips to coax The last drop of brandy from the bottle. Rest my feet and contemplate The mystery that's haunting This siberian space. Show-shoes they bind me down --- I'm just one more parasite of the surface layer. I begin to get the feeling I've been on this stage before And I'm the only player. One more arctic desert day --- Another set of shoes out in the tundra snow. I make my fade to white-out And you can't see me where my footprints go.