It's during the darkest hours of the waning moon that I reflect upon the harshness of life in the desert. Tonight, I can feel a cool breeze, the first in many months, and gazing at the stars I know that soon, too soon, I'll see the hungry eyes of coyotes starting at me through the neighbors' bushes while hoping for the easy kill of a stray or maybe house cat left to wander the streets as cats do.
The intense heat has hidden away the wonders leaving only the bravest or stupidest of us to face the sun and wear it's burning mark upon our skin like a stain of red wine on white carpet you can't ever get out, and the night, the night still boiling hot is left to the meanderings of roaches who hackle at us hidden away in our air conditioned homes.
The feel of fall will last a while, leaves already cover the road only dancing as a car speeds past or with a sudden gust of wind that appears out of nowhere. Winter will set upon us as in most places, and while snow flakes never fall the biting chill will always leave us pleading from our knees for the relentless sun of summer.
I don't know why any of us live here. I'm sure I never will. Maybe some are stuck, like I am, waiting for the perfect time when worries and memories are swallowed up like houses built too close to the river's edge when the spring floods arrive. Maybe everyone is seeing a mirage, an oasis, of plentiful fancies just within grasp while the rest of us see this place for what it truly is: unforgiving, relentless, vengeful, bitter and lonely.
No, I don't pray to see the same mirage as they do, but instead for survival and patience of the many years to come and for a bridge to aid my escape so that one day I may find my own true safe haven far away from the demanding realities and unfair justices taught me by this damned desert.