It sounded good at the time

The waves of seed puffs shimmied up heat columns and committed their souls to the air gods

I bet it would be fun to go where the wind carries me

I imagine landing in an algae pond floating on warm tiny waves

or skimming across the hot sand to surprising green oases

I could hear nature music

a samba

a symphony of ancient humming

or land on a speeding radiator that struts importantly to

big places, important places

to be rendered into junkyard dirt that rises in the fall rains maybe

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