In the empire of the desert, water is the king
and shadow is the queen.
Mehmet Murat İldan
So little moves at noon
across the flat pans of the Iranian desert.
Below the surface, often a hundred feet,
hand-dug qanats have veined water
from one oasis to the next for centuries.
On the third day without a road,
we see a signal box—
inside, a man offering a $10 coke.
Twenty mini bottles on ice, red cooler.
No car, camel or dwelling in sight.
A man willing to wait in 120 degrees
to make six months income.
And we, months on the road.
We consider the clean desert water
and the ethics of reinforcing
the demand for a fizzy synthetic
in these harsh conditions.
And we pay.
