Oh, give me a home where weather as hot and slow
As jalapeno molasses (they have it)
Settles over rusty, dusty pick-up trucks ambling
Across baked and shimmering
(The only appearance of water)
Roads cut through rocky clay;
Where hums of brand-new, 1954-model
Air conditioners harmonize with the eagles circling in
The western wind like vultures;
Where the wiry grass rolls on the plain
And the sands of 50 years ago
(They still used hourglasses then)
Finally blow away;
Where well-done humanity says,
"Yeah (two syllables), so what,"
Discouraging words while thirst
Herds them toward fountains (watering holes);
Where the sun brands the earth,
Its four corners lassoed together,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.