A life of toil is all they know.

From dawn until dusk, all duties must be performed.

Across the acres, the machinery hums and lulls as the ground beneath it is torn and shredded.

The seeds must get scattered. The irrigation, like clockwork, satiates the thirst of the seeds.

Months go by, measures are taken, prayers are said in the hopes that the harvest will come.

The cows must be feed, the plants watered, the grounds cleaned, the cows milked.

There is no calling out sick, there are no personal days, there are razor thin margins in a competitive field.

The suit must be pressed, the network connection must be stabled. The phone must be charged.

Meetings, luncheons, red ties, blue ties

Shiny shoes, construction sites. Busy roads, traffic updates, inner cities, suburbs.

Job applications, tweets and texts, Google Maps, GPS.

Grab a quick bite, drop by the store, pick up some beef, Sort through the lettuce.

No mind where it came from, for we all know, all of our food comes from the store.

Flight from New York across to LA.

Such a lengthy flight, over flyover country.

"I'll never visit a boring place like Idaho!" yelps the businessman chomping on fries.

"What's the point of Kansas?" utters the man, chewing on popcorn.

"Wisconsin is irrelevant!" chimes the man eating cheese, with a grin on his face, and crumbs on his plate.

A country united? A country divided. Rap music? Country music?

"I must go to church!" stammers the rural man.

"Why is Chick-Fil-A closed on Sundays, what a drag!" hammers the urban man.

They're all connected. The producer and the consumer, yet they couldn't be further apart

in mind and in heart