horizon

buttered sunset sky

dripping thick coagulate

glaze upon already slippery slopes

steep peaks pert, erect

unreachable beyond the naked eye

unfathomable beyond time and space

icy hot protrusions swelling

melting runoff

 

if I were the invisible man of lore

I would lick them if I could

if I were the infallible almighty alrighty

I would give them a rub

for they must be terribly uncomfortable

sore from stoic and still being

pushed higher by disgruntled lower rumblings

eroded lower from higher atmospheric pressures

sides picked clean by parasitical application

icing sprinkled airborne toxic

once majestic

once impassable

and now not much but a twinkle

in the corner of a glanced eye

of a maximum scheduled commuter fly-by

 

if I were the all knowing

all perfect

untouchable grandest of poobahs

I would proclamate it a no-fly zone