the chickens are restless. there's chaos on the paved roadway. the roaches have attacked the small children as they lick their dream-cicles purchased by the local mobile ice cream animosity with the feverish grin and the thoughts of gross pedophilia of melted frozen milk as a lubricant. sweat stains mark the chests of well endowed femmes like a bulls-eye for phallic friction. the sun beats down painfully like a dj with an unmatched track. heat, stagnant sweat and lawnmower exhaust fill the air....where is my mind?...lost in the scriptures of unwritten books about dogmatically placing a condensed version of a very large sawmill in a small town of little population to employ the unemployed with jobs of very little intellectual knowledge...and the breeze can soothe at times.