arizona highway on a hot august night
indians selling fireworks a liquor store in sight
hitching with migrant pickers, weary and alone
looking forward to the night and resting heavy bones
stopping for a beer, tacos and the law
speaking the local language, hating the steely claw
neon dance hall down an alley of migrant dust
the women were all fleshy and fortunes had gone bust
lying through my teeth and half expecting the worst
gorging on the special and finally slaking an aching thirst
the lady she was taken and so were all the doors
hands on my face and ass on the floor
jumping through a tight window and running very fast
here comes the migrant truck and all my troubles passed
seventeen of us spread out on the spacious truck’s bed
smoking the night reefer and not a word was said
morning seems so distant as the tired bodies drift off
snoring and farting enduring an old man’s cough
the orange sun comes a walking so cool and new
stopping at a market wearing stripes of red and blue
sipping on black coffee and the promise of a mirage of work
we all roll down the block as the cab starts to jerk
bound for california the mountains look afar
bouncing on a freeway being passed by all the cars
napping on a gas can’s smelly foul load
me and my companions happily rolling down the road