I’m back in Houston, driving home from the Intercontinental Airport, and it’s raining. Slim Thug is loud, and it’s raining on the Astrodome. It’s raining on the Enron building– It’s raining all fucking week.
It’s raining on the Astrodome and I can’t see anything under the asphalt steam, but I know they’re here. They’re always here.
The pimps are always in this town and I can feel them steaming up from the ground and into my air conditioner. I can smell them tippin’, slippin’ over the slick red underbelly of Texas; into my home.
I can sit back and smell the smog roll out of my armpit, and know I’m back at ease, alongside my endless pimps, and an endless heat that bellows from stink and forever, or whatever and where I am.