In the Glaring Sunshine of that Endless Afternoon

Complete with camels and lecherous pop songs cooking

Sous vide under the August Zion crescent moon's flare

That couldn't care less what mischief we were up to then,

As now, a vacuum. Nature abhors nature and makes

More and more of her, like a bronzed, half-drowned mariner 

Dragging weeds and seashells up from the riptide and down

The moonlit, laughing beach. I'm the representative

Of humans being humans, culturing gross nothings.

I will come back here in a hundred years. You will see.