In Arizona I drove to the edge of the earth. The Grand Canyon. It was the first time in my life I had nothing to say. A ranger in a flat hat told me the rock at the bottom is two billion years old. I asked who this belongs to. "Everyone. It's a national park." I paid thirty-five dollars. For thirty-five dollars I received two billion years of earth, a sunset that was being painted while I watched, and a parking spot. In my country the most beautiful garden belongs to the emperor. In this country the most beautiful canyon belongs to a family in matching t-shirts eating trail mix out of a Ziploc bag. They were taking a photograph. The mother said "everybody say GRAND CANYON" and they said it and it echoed and I think the canyon said it back. Thirty-five dollars. Two billion years. Everybody. This country is out of its mind and I am never leaving.