3200 hackberry

there is a 7/11 store
in the 7/11 corporate office
an odd little
minature hell of
florescence and plastic
a live calf
suckling the teat
of financial demand
a parade of lovely ladies
and jabbering men
milling about with
no real purpose
as the poor bastard
scrubs the slurpee machine
for minimum wage
an affluence of clashing
orange and green
a shimmering miasma
of gluttonous filth
a sea of professionalism
and a lone fool
spitting into the wind

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