The Furnace

Heat.
Like stepping out into..
What?
A sauna.
But without any steam.
Or a door.
Your body screams,
"Turn back!
Get back on the plane!"
But something inside you smiles.
Something purrs deep in the pit of your stomach.

Adventure.

Dust.
For miles around,
Stretching out in every direction.
Making the still, hot air heavier.
It slides into your toes,
Mulches into the sweat on your plastic sandals.

Wind.
There is none.
No gentle breeze to relieve your dripping brow.
No ferocious gusts to sway the palms.

Just the dusty, dense, dry heat.