Something, something, something

And then, but suddenly

Only to realize

That at the end of the day

Everything will be OK.

I want a burger. No fancy sauce. Medium rare and LTO. A cold, light beer pulled from a big keg with dust on the tap. America in a sheer dress designed by humans, stitched by nuns and worn by opossums. Goodbye to The Golden Shores. Uneven pavement calls for thee.

Big machines left to rust in dust. Big fruit left to rot on the cutter line. Self harm enthusiasts endorse new cleaner, quicker, environmentally safer product. Do the same thing and do it over again. Walk through the employee only door. Stay with the old woman who has to breathe pure oxygen. She sits on her trailer porch in the breath of wild animals; stay the night and get naked in her tub.

Ten hours to Dickinson, ND. I-90 is a steroid through the arm of the Rockies. Turn slowly, look at birds, look at 5G towers, look at billboards. CATTLE AUCTION. DERMATOLOGY AND AESTHETIC SPECIALISTS. WESTON TIMBERMAN ROOKIE OF THE YEAR. To the dumb eye, all baldness is the same. It would take a kid who loves rolling downhill his entire lifetime to describe the Montana countryside, and he would need a level and an unlimited supply of sand and a bitchin’ sled for the wintertime. The Absarokas are an unfitting portrait of a rearview mirror.

Inversely, North Dakota is a place with zero aesthetic principle. It’s a land of highly specialized individuals shrugging their shoulders and saying “I don’t know. It’s fine.” Everything here is wrong. Nothing looks good. Nothing feels good. This is a place that was made to be but with no feeling of being. Every line is the same twice. I’m hiding out at a Comfort Inn. Both the sink drain and the shower drain in my room were down when I arrived. The lady at the counter was very excited about the water slide recently installed at the indoor pool. For guests only until 11am.