hm. cold out.

bicycle. check.
scarf. check check.
gloves. flexed.
goggles in place,
boots strapped 'round in seven strong buckles with nickel tongues.

leaves on the hoods of dusty hoopties. check.
empty flasks of
backberry schnapps. check check.
cobblestones negotiated casually. check.
creak trees--ten-four.
fly, gray rolling banks above.
done and done.

it's november. it's december.
it's Ultima Thule in reverse, ascending into
a cold cave's heart in the sky
where i spy la lune peeking
. check. flexed.


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