where do we go to?

ALERT: introspective post, don't expect to understand much, except if you're david lynch :)
and where do we go tooo, my lo-ve-ly?
to the usual, if not this usual, it's the other usual, you know, the one across the street
where they have no chips no nachos nothing to munch on
but they offer a pyramid of golden-crisp onion rings
where the waiters and waitresses stutter-speak english
spike up their hair and stick straws in their pockets
they never bring napkins for my gum never ever
and their eyes are a scrunched mess beneath a pile of saggy bags of tired skin
and we perch on the sidewalk almost on the street
and surmount the deafening pollution of all vehicles known to man
that tank their way in next to my half-full glass of chardonnay
and N's bouncer ear-piece and R's box of camels
speaking of camels, well, we spoke of camels all evening
and yes, camels are the shy creatures of this earth
they stand on solitary dunes standing the scorching heat the biting dust the vanishing drops of water
they will not move
until you make a move
but is it wise, to make a camel move?
and will it? move?
2 glasses of wine and still no answers no moves
egos are not something to be proud of but unfortunately cannot be crushed