sometimes time can seem to stand still
if it ever even passed
or does it move in a wave pattern
pulsating through it all
in every direction
from each point
through the wet mists at sea
through the dense forests
through the silent erosion of the mountains
through the solitary peaks of the TV masts
through radio signals and telephone calls
staircases and letter boxes
perhaps
or maybe it stands absolutely still
in this grain of light in all directions desert with a pale, white sun like a ceiling lamp which spreads an even light but without heat no contours, no latitudes
night in the desert but the sharp cold is absent a gray full moon that is easily confused with the sun lifeless, soulless
I mistook this place for my home the mirages deceived me fata morgana the lights reflected from elsewhere in the dry lakes in the distance seemed to me to be the city but they flow off slip away if we get too close
I thought it was you who came back when in fact I was the one who traveled to the place where you were and the dust I thought you brought with you was the salty sand which tears my eyes and dries my blood to dust