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Clear The Landing Area


EmGEmAm

Theirs the whole time.
Nothing is different.
Just realized.
Known.

Clear the landing area.
We're coming down.
From space.
Slowly.

Call off the celebrations.
Until after recovery.
Soak awhile.
Float.

Clock all the participants.
Watch them hustle.
Young glory.
Glowing.

It's the outlandish truth.
And the ramifications.
No fear.
Ever.

Texas Cosmopolitan 5: Martindale

  The road had done me in, I needed to hide out and get my thoughts together, write something, play something, do nothing for awhile.  I boo...