Clouds bound and bunch
speeding beneath me.
On wings of steel
and
improbable lift,
I fly with the grace of a stone.
Sitting in a casket,
the wind roaring bye,
steel surrounding,
encasing like a tomb.
Engines roar
as this steel coffin falls.
Clouds and dirt race forward.
At the last possible moment
the Undertaker
rights his path.
Wheels hit pavement,
screeching their protest.
Survival attained
until he calls once more.
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