VISIT ORLANDO!
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Visit Orlando home of swamp smoke and Alligator teeth like nostalgia beaded into a necklace on display at a gift shop: Orange Avenue bottled, OBT on towles in windows--
in quarters, don’t even have a dime to get you the rest of the way home. Visit Orlando. See the people. See the rides. It only takes a moment and 500 workers to make a moment.
where Donald Duck whips stripper money over Tomorrow Land and the carousel ponies as he rides to the top of the ferris wheel at Fun Spot screaming, “it’s huge!” like a duck mad on the power of his quack, the price
Visit the Haitian motorcoach driver obsessed with the Puerto Rican boarding rep at the airport. He wants to shove his foot in her pussy. Visit the crackhead on Vineland who’s buck ass naked by the castle at Medieval Times
of a hamburger ten dollars apiece the price of a good time more than you’d think because everyday is paradise, because everyday is the best day even if you only lose one tooth,
Visit Orlando in the summer. Visit Orlando in Spring. Hulk Smash. Goofy h’yuck. Mi pana in the orange traffic vest, my friend, little girl, big dumb, holding a red stop sign with her hand held into a fist and walking off into the road
even if the whole family finds themselves stranded in absolute bliss between the danger of an idea and the reality of a toll booth, reaching into the cupholder realizing you don’t have 1.50
and she’s bundled in her sweater though it’s 85 degrees, and she’s tired (I can tell by the circles under her eyes like plums begging the question begging the notion, begging, pleading to get the fuck out of here).