The wall of the supermarket entryway
tells the story of how a housewife got a part-time job
 to save up enough money to run away.

She needs an accomplice 
watching her kids
from eight a.m. to three p.m. 
every day
besides Sunday.

Little bombs go off in the background while

patriotic cupcakes
make their escape
past the stories with 
tabs torn off.

No cars turn left 

when the memories of our forefathers 
light up the sky.



We can smell independence a day after.