Pop always talked about mirages, how they happen outside of the desert all the time, like television, like the produce aisle, like any woman in a wet swimming suit.
What I noticed first was the black flickering, I wondered how I could see black flicker in all that dark, then my eyes saw the rest of it,
saw the orange flames which formed the black flicker, saw them shooting up, undulating tall, saw the fire, saw the fire, saw the fire, and I ran to it.
The desert is a good lesson in life.
It proves that what you want most will most likely stay out of reach.
That fire was mine, was my love, was the breath in my lungsacks.
I heard the dogs behind me singing their brutal chorus, I knew they remembered what it was to beg, that fire moving fast toward the end of the earth.