Tahoe Mountain Road

shackled to a promise of flying
It is there at the top

as smoke rolls over
indifferent walls of granite
A forest of dead trees

aimlessly tumbles
Iron drips

in every breath
fights momentum
Bound to moulded metal

to wires and chain

to a promise
Push down

to ascend
to the last turn
a wall

    When its over, I hope that some thing carries through, even if the details a lost.