An obese man in a wheelchair sits alongside
a busy highway, prime real estate for refinery workers
hungry at shift’s end. As carcinogens billow behind him,
he hawks strips of dried venison from coolers in the
bed of his truck, mimicking pioneers like Kraft and
Oscar Mayer.

Who knows? This man, in time, could be driving around
our great land in a car shaped like a rabid Bambi,
an old Grand Marquis with antlers so tall, routes will be
planned around low bridges. Our grandkids may enjoy
convenient, squeezable bottles of Killer Deer Jerky
brand meat product in containers designed to fit
the cup holders of their electric cars.

For now, he sits under his canopy,
building his tarpaulin empire one Ziploc bag at a time.