Sitting in the desert, rock next to body, sun pounding down. The lizard peeps out only to see me pissing in its home space, pissing on its infant young, pissing on its habitat. It scuttles across the dune to escape my arc of golden liquid, trying to find a new drier home.
Me? I’m stuck here in this mess, thanks to the bloody fault of the plane wing falling off. Bloody desert, stretching in each direction, undulating sandscape, pile of shit.
I’ve got enough food to last for a few days but after? I carry on pissing, pissing into the wind. No-one knows I’m here, that I came searching for gold bars that don’t exist.
The day beats on, the cloudless azure sky has now become my open prison. The lizard has ventured back, wondering if I’m still pissing on its newly hatched young, only to find that I’ve become the main father figure to the young lizards.
They are curled around my neck and shoulders, tender licks of reptilian tongues lapping at my cheeks.
I feed them bits of dead flaking skin as the sun helps me shed my former self. I have become the lizard king, and she my lizard queen.