“You ain’t seen desert yet”, scoffs fire and wind and fleeting soil. “When nothing stands outside your cities taller than a soybean plant, then you’ll have entered the perfect land for repentance promised you by your homeless God. So stick around. Let the angry heat wick away your tears. Lick your dustbowl clean. Eat your barbequed kangaroo. And on the darkest days of smoke-blotted sun remember the desert too must die in the sudden-death overtime of post-disaster resurrection.