The pale-yellow ocean stretches on for miles out here. There are cattle speckled like freckles in the ocean here and there drowning. Little bird necklaces and bits of coyote food line the freeway giving it a certain grotesque opulence.
Some people have not enough teeth from too much **** and not enough mints. Some people think this is because there are too many brown people and not enough fence.
The orchards of money trees stretch for miles out here. They’re irrigated with blood and sweat and tears and fears. They’re picked with the dark hands of the Valley, both young and old, male and female, poor and poor, Adam and Eve.
All the teens are pregnant, all the drugs are hard, all the prisons are full, all the schools are empty.
Some people are empty.
Some people think there should be a wide selection of guns for even the most sophisticated palate.