Lips so chapped it hurts to smile
Mouth so dry that my tongue sticks to my cup
Arms and legs so rough that the skin prickles
at the moment of contact
with bath water.
It's spring in Saratoga.
Snow melts, sun shines and
the wind blows all of the moisture
out of the air
leaving it bone dry.
I, too, am dry
for 112 days,
tea, not vodka
ginger ale over wine,
carrot juice and super greens
spiked with a splash
of Price Chopper seltzer.
Going dry has softened my face,
sharpened my brain,
toned my muscles and bones,
and added a spring to my step.
Still, I thirst
for something I long for
but cannot define.
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