NAFTA rough riders line up, ready for the long haul. One has a wax bag of conchas; one has a travel mug; one has a water and a pressed penny. The others have some other agenda.
A commissioner sits behind a desk made from particle board, yelling “yes” one way and “no” the other. We’re lucky they expanded to two lanes in both directions not too long ago. Otherwise, this road would be jammed up with the commissioner’s barking orders. All that noise funnels in once I reach my northernmost destination. Does the northernmost destination’s bitter cold contradict the heat wave I encountered at the loading docks back down south? And here I thought everything was working together all along, to jam up the road with noise and barking sounds.
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