Sometimes I hate this place
With its lack of sophistication
And its extreme religious domination
I despise the dirt that colors my white socks red,
And the cold mornings, but sizzling afternoons
I've lived here forever
And those generations before me
Who came to find their own destiny from the

persecution of others
For them, it was the place
But it is not for me
One day soon, I shall leave
And the mountains that hover about protectively

will disperse
and the blanket of stars that is my comforter at night

will be gone
And I will miss the dry brush that hides the

ferocious clicking of the insects
And I will miss the lumpy, misshapen rocks in the

luscious, dead canyons
These mountains' majesty will be replaced with skyscrapers
And in the stead of cold evening breeze and twittering of bird, smog and police siren
I'll look back
But not with regret or despair
I will look back at the moment in my life where time stood as still the secretive kings known as mountains that enclosed it so securely
I'm ready for a new beginning
But I'll never forget the desert