The April fools think April is it
when the skies will open up
and vomit out the rain
onto their scorched throats

the sahara’s wide expanse
awash with the wicked
is covered with coals of fire
and the journey is long
the camels famished

the guide perched yonder
on the fattest dromedary
gutting his yoghurt
littering the path with
hurting cans

the April sun scorches
our famished skin
as we pick up empty cans
of yoghurt from the trash
under the dromedary

trudging along

along this bushsahara path
that leads nowhere

the April fools.

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