The sky is melting.
Five hundred plus two-fifty sliding
down on loose rocks and slick dirt.
Can’t stop all that metal
when the sky is melting,
and my face matches.
But I am alive.
3 responses to “When the Sky Melts”
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That describes it very well.
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Placitas has some really terrible dirt roads! 0.o
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They do. I rode all over them in years gone by.
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Margarine is Murder 
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