Camels and ships and snipers to nowhere

My life has been    a desert    pitted with storms in tea cups  
like    an obstacle            course where        one wrong step
twists your ankle                  and keeps you out of the game    
for weeks             but the wrong steps   equal  ten thousand
mines across a border        between      me and my dreams      
to mock my hope and defer satisfaction               like waves
of salt       that batter me down and crunch my spinal bones            
each time                        I think I see the mirage that stands     
for           the ass’s motivation      to     be fed             Is that              
all I am            A donkey with             goofy        itching ears          
believing tales         of new clothes              and     promises       
of   a         lucky             leopard         coat                without 
the blotches   of       our  common    carotene        fallibility?