whew.
rows and rows of cars
cooked under the sick yellow;
what a day, eh?
...
oh,there comes
a tiny, filthy fly
looking for a hazy shadow.
see, the green insect, at last,
picks a metallic surface, red hot...
as the fly rests its sticky legs
eagerly rubbing the back two,
suddenly emerges on the surface of its eyes
a thousand reflections of the
huge fat ass - of a salesman
showing off to his lone customer -
crushing its mass like a glue.
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