Desert Runway

A gate to lands of arid death
this stripe of black adorns the ground
a toothless grin upon the sand.

A young man in a leather vest
does glide unto this waking point
and, with a waning trust,


Billowing smoke from butts of worn out cigarettes
the now grizzled pilot scans horizons long before and after
with sand-swept asphalt 'neath his feet,
he mounts his steed and turns his back to gravity.