Destination, Palm Springs
Destination,Vegas
perfume sales,
on the road.
Six young adults crammed
like sardines
in my car,
the size of a commode.
A hatchback, blue
Escort,
Ford,
With suicide doors.
Roars
through
smoldering desert
heat.
STOP!!
"My car will overheat"
the radiator leaks.
Money,
we all seek.
Vagas',
the place to be
dollar signs on every street.
Walking,
talking,
dollar signs with feet.
Another and I,
paired,
A black guy..
Damien, an awesome
smooth talking,
money making,
sales guy...
Money falls from
the sky.
He's got that look
in his eye.
each sale strokes
his pride.
Witnessing his techniques,
I establish
mine.
Vegas,
our third stop.
We have seven,
It's eleven,
It's time to start picking
the midnight crop.
We head west toward
California,
stop in
Pasendena,
Pamona,
of impulse.
We hear Benjamin,
Grant,
and Jackson.
We bank of the songs
they sing.
I grin....
Back on
Route......
......Ten
To our destination,
Palm Springs.
....The trip continues................:JP}
Jared Pickett...7/28/09
Copyright © Jared Pickett | Year Posted 2009
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