Lost and never found

You can’t disappear in a desert if you haven’t been to one. And if by chance, you’re there, wouldn’t it be awesome to get lost and never be found again? Or would that be too gruesome and lonely a death that life would be ashamed of itself? Desperate for a gulp of water or a spread of garment over your head or people. Damn. That’d be cruel. You’d be compelled to miss something as atrocious as people. All your life you hated people — purposefully overlooking that you are people — and in that desert, you’d be dying to spot a two-legged like yourself. Bedouins, even. And when nothing else works, you’d fall for the mirage in the distance. You’d even try to run to the oasis that isn’t there in the first place. Or last. There’s nothing except you, sand and the blue sky. Before you realize it, the yellow star shall set dropping the temperate drastically. You’ll have a cold blanketless night for yourself. And white stars will rise to provide you acquaintance. That is, if you make it through the day. Better still, if you ever get lost in the desert.