The Black Helicopter

They threw him off the black helicopter
at midnight
from twenty-seven feet

The desert stretched
one thousand miles
in all directions

No food or drink
for five and a half days
his left leg was probably broken

He was in big trouble

The heat was relentless

For a while he crawled
looking for anything
anyone

Finding nothing
he laid down

It was coming to an end and
he knew it

At some point he managed
to get up on his knees
in the hot sand
half-conscious
and whimper something pathetic
to the Lord

Only then did it happen

His fingers started moving
he wasn’t thinking
just typing
one line
the next line
the next

And slowly
very slowly
a small and
grateful
poem
began to
form…