The sun beats down on a stark black gulf
Of cracked asphalt
Nowhere to hide
glaring helicopters chop the sky above
The clamoring wheeled furnaces of the sprawling factory
Roar past without end
Dusted by dry farts of hot exhaust
A trickle of sweat in the perineum
McDonalds and automobile excrement fragrances extend to the troposphere
At the horizon, hot steel glinting, grinding, crawling
Like a herd of cattle in a chute
Across broiling exposed expanses
Conveying obese pilots
To new worlds upon which to shit
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