The blue sky is always there.
Through the screaming clouds
The torn trees
The painted lines

Stretching the waist bands
Snapping the bra straps
Cooking the chorizo
On hot sidewalks

Grinding the beans
With our ass cracks
Time to fill up? Fan food?
Kick ass trucks? Hot hot pancakes?

Yelling only makes the yellng louder
But it’s better with ketchup
Summer time specials
Cucumber penis salad
With a side of I don’t care
Smell the smoke through your bandana
Gaze upon the high hills the rows of hedges and xmas trees

The enormous wheel continues to roll on down the highway
We race past the tick tock shop, the budget motels, the ad here spaces and distant water tower

Nothing in its path can survive