How many nails do the Vietnamese girls gotta do to make the rent on those storefronts?
How many twinkles and giggles and sweetness does a girl get from getting nails done?
How many people get nails done or sit around drinking beer watching random sports instead of doing something special with their lives?
How many lives and minds have gone down the drain working in the fumes of pointless jobs like working the endless nail polish factory?
How many nail polish factories or these analogues around the world adjacent to alleys, dumpsters, parking lots, warehouses and shipping docks feed the strange whims of humans and their fingernails?
How many fingernail-sized human enamel fantasies project polka-dot whims across the earth?
How many crystalline whims and polka dot glittery wishes flit through phantom history like sparks from a campfire at noon, at midnight?
How many lives today, tonight wink out like sparks flying into the dark are glitter, polka dots and polish on fingernails?
How many days, nights am I gonna drive past these storefronts without a hint or a clue of these days and dreams except stare sidelong at some woman’s shiny new nails?

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