• Rolled down windows cut dirt trail storms in two
    by fours that keep little girls from leaving daddy's side too soon. Locals don't give directions to strangers

    & when signs lead nowhere and you stop to ask your way around, even the town
    Atheist will you tell this is God's country. "But we were hoping to go next door to wait

    for the next opportunity to buy our vaginas a contract," it's already been
    seven years, give or take a few. Nowhere left to go because our uncivil

    union, with plans lost between maps and that atlas from 1989, is reaching the end of the globe:
    our third fingers were discovered flat and we need those Santa Ana winds

    to reinflate them so we can scream like every XX and XY couple in this village
    of high school sweethearts producing two point five clones per household.