The cactuses spread out infinitely,
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the air is hot,
the sky is blue,
there is not the slightest sound,
here we turn inward to seek..
something we lost in the city.
We seek to lose track of... reality.
These sands help us forget the maps and the shape of the globe.
We don't know what state we're in or how old Jesus is.
We don't have the internet here;
I smashed the cell phone;
I wonder if it has a platonic ideal.
There isn't any context here;
the world is not a text.
Here, we forget and are forgotten.
The desert animals creep and crawl,
seeking a forgotten order.
We can all forget that the dinosaurs are extinct,
that Kipling fell from political grace.
We can close our eyes,
turn the sun into a vengeful God and become the most advanced beings on earth.