They mean
the end.
They mean a
future wherein
Starbucks,
Wal-Mart and
Windows compose a wholly
unholy trinity.
They mean more for
Monsanto.
I should have grown up with
dirt in my hair and toenails. I should have learned to
irrigate, and to
milk my own free-range cows.
I can't drive a
tractor or even a
truck.
I don't even know these creatures anymore.
Last time I was in
Idaho, I priced
cowboy boots at the
mall. $400.