Cantos for Lemuel Gulliver by TinyPissyFairy

LXII.

The new land is fertile and brims with 7-11s.
Oases of Mountain Dew Code Black for three dollars ninety-nine.
We let our horses drink and make good time
galloping across the sixteen-lane Flanfasnic Connector.

We sleep in the median strip, making lean-tos
with discarded Southern Bacon Double wrappers.
The scent of their tangy Southern-style sauce wafts through our dreams,
which thunder with salt, sugar, and saturated fats.
I awaken when a semi the size of Delaware streaks by.

The stars are bigger here and crowd the Earth,
but even so I am still too small to reach up and turn them off.