THE DROUGHT if the drought means anything we haven't been told as a matter of course it seizes our eyes for the water they carry unrecognized by all but a few its mother has set out looking for it she takes no food and rests only when exhausted the footprints are everywhere the trail is confused when she asks she is mocked or given useless sympathy useless because it contains no information other than itself if she hums as she searches her feet tire less quickly and the marks on her face stay hidden from those she mistrusts when they come out the marks reveal a buried electricity of which we must be aware and shun as a danger the long search has made her ruthless and severe her face is printed in every newspaper as one of the ten least-wanted she believes that somewhere past the dead corn and weak flowers her child has fallen in with dry companions and forgotten his home if only someone would remind him with a few shreds of wallpaper or the smell of the furniture he would be called to his senses and leave his wandering that only brings sorrow and a few souvenirs too delicate for the rough life of no shelving or strongboxes