Just inside the Texas border, the sign,
"First Christian Church and Rifle Range"
lets you know just exactly where you are.
Approaching Dumas, there is no moon. Something
flickers in the headlights of your green Veedub.
"Frogs?" Thousands of frogs. It's thonk and shudder
for 15 miles, and "Hey, whose karma is this?"
At the truck stop you are served up a slab of beef
and a third sign: the gift shop sells pies and cakes,
lollipops, ceramic dishes, meatloaf pans, cookie cutters,
refrigerator magnets, place mats, corn cob holders,
eyeglasses, all in the shape of Texas.
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