A Lovely Little Daydream
A summer smile stuck on my face,
as I watched a soda truck racing
across the yellow maize farm.
"What is a soda truck doing
in the countryside, far away from
shops and clubs?" my workmate asked.
He looked as though he had witnessed
the Roswell event personally.
"Something isn't right," he added.
I smiled and gazed at the truck,
as it became bigger and bigger.
Monotonous tastelessness of rain water,
would soon be replaced by a fizzy, sweet
sensation to my tastebuds.
This would be the dozenth time I tasted
soda without actually drinking it.
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