Winds blew heavy across the fields. Dust where soy beans used to grow. Rusted tractors. Tin roofs rusted.

This land was once green in the summertime. Corn stalks rose from the earth; turning brown in the fall. Now, the ground is a hard clay. Tumbleweed dances across the highway. 

The livestock was sold years ago. Cows, pigs, sheep, chickens, a rooster that crowed at the crack of dawn, all of them gone. Money exchanged hands. A poor man’s still poor. 

He loaded up the truck and went looking for a place to land; some town to call home. Start all over again. Take a job. Any work would do. Couldn’t afford to be picky.

They found a spot in Tulsa. She worked at the grocery store as a checkout girl. He scrubbed vehicles down at the car wash. The price you pay for voting against yourself.

There was no safety net anymore. They thought the farm would last forever. No one saw the drought coming back to America. One big dust bowl again.

Do you wanna eat? Get in the back of the line. Wait your turn. Maybe they’ll be some left for you.

Don’t count on it.