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