Hubcaps dance in broken glass,spinning on spoiled, tarmac stages to a chorus of rain and strangled screams,watched by passing cars full of speechless passengers,crushed metal,far flung eyelashes and the fallen star of somebody’s dream. It’s all such a beautiful show.

There were missiles marked with your name,scratched on the side,a ticket to ride the elevator to the bottom floor weighed heavy in your pocket,and you could hear the whistling of fate’s feared song speeding closer.It was over,as it always had to be,for you had to fall for the sun to rise.

A plane flies overhead, a path to somewhere different. I’m afraid to fly.