sometimes, i miss the summer days in west texas. i would drive from sunrise to sunset along the desert. i never liked running, but i would run in my orange nike flats fitting to the orange dirt and just watch the walking beam pumps bobbing up and down along the long stretches of sand. and i know this is just a fantasy, or, a mirage to be more exact, like every mirage in the desert, and like every man who has been bewitched by that phantom of oasis; they take that daydream home with them, or where ever they go. and many men keep that memory private. and it's in these quiet moments, that a man might reveal the deepest desires in their hearts.