Freer than most birds an eagle flies up over San Francisco freer than most places soars high up floats and glides high up in the still open spaces
flown from the mountains floated down far over ocean where the sunset has begun a mirror of itself
He sails high over turning and turning where seaplanes might turn where warplanes might burn
He wheels about burning in the red sun climbs and glides and doubles back upon himself now over ocean now over land high over pinwheels suck in sand where a rollercoaster used to stand
soaring eagle setting sun All that is left of our wilderness
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