Four thousand five hundred and rising,
Chewing coca leaves to keep my head.
Waves of dizziness,
Spells of fatigue,
Feeling fucked after a fifty-metre stretch.
.
Leaf after leaf,
Joins the cluster in my gums.
Is this remedy even legit?
Is that a single tingle in my mouth?
Or am I sucking down a placebo,
To keep me sane,
On this highest of high,
Barren desert plains?
.
Well the bolivianos are doing it.
Heck, they’re supplying the greenery.
Oh well guess it beats chewing nothing.
Another handful of leaves please,
While I sit back in wonder,
Of this dusty, windswept scenery.
Like a stream trickling down a mountain, the sand swirls down the dune.
Tres bolivianos tomando una pausa.
For a moment I was melting in a Salvador Dali painting.
High levels of arsenic and other minerals allow the salt lagoon to remain unfrozen despite reaching temperatures of -56 degrees Celsius.
R E LA T E D :: ¤ Dalí ¤ & ¤ Siloli ¤
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