I drove a long way in a narrow road,
passed abandoned gas stations,

and houses half-standing,
like sunflowers kneeling at sunset.

As I braced the road ahead,
the dry land kept closing in.

Then a flag appeared flying high
that a proud, young woman had

planted years before as a reminder
we are in the land of the free.

We were not destined to toast beneath the moon —
pure and high at night, emitting light.
It makes the curves of lovers glow,
their naked bodies grow, from midnight to noon
against the sands of a faraway desert. A playful sight:
laughter and concert, light and shadow.