Eggs

The truck sticks in the sand. 

“Radiator’s cooked.” The mechanic says.

The mechanic busts a handful of lizard eggs on the hood and watches them sizzle. She feels like a lizard egg. The plateau goes to the edge of the sky. The sun is waking up.

The driver starts digging.

“Did you hear me? Cooked?”

He stops digging.

“How many eggs?”

“Only these.”

“That’s not enough.”

“No shit.”

The driver looks around. He walks a circle around the trucks.

“What else is there?”

“Sand.”

“Can’t eat sand.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Whaddya mean, doesn’t matter?”

“We’ll be eggs by tonight.”

He swears.