I’d like eggs with those morals.

Red, the color of roses and apples and cherries and strawberries and plums and tomatoes and tomatoes and tomatoes enough to make a girl go crazy in August

standing at a checkout counter looking at all those beautiful things to eat that she can’t afford even if she had money in her pocket which she doesn’t because it’s running down her leg in a river that doesn’t stop until it gets to China where she ends up naked on a bridge screaming for mercy because there isn’t any from horny Chinese merchants who sell fish eggs in baskets with stolen cowrie shells from Madagascar that are supposed to bring good luck but don’t unless you’ve got money or power or food or clothes

which means you’re still naked on a bridge screaming for mercy but none is forthcoming so there’s nothing left but to do what comes naturally except when it comes naturally there isn’t any raincoat which is why she’s running through this cornfield with an umbrella over her head made out of dried-up yellow grasses held together with twine while wearing nothing but a pair of shoes which should be funny except they’re not

because it’s raining hardenough to drown an elephant under Highway 1 where no one can hear your screams because all they’re doing is trying not to get wet while they stand under their umbrellas along the side of the road trying not to get wet either as women smile at men who smile back while cars run into each other all around them most notably including one driven by two drunk men