I imagined Wile E. Coyote sitting cross-legged in the air, lotus position,
Over Angel's Landing. It rained a little on the hikers waiting
To get on the shuttle back to town. I was an outlaw in the canyon,
Forbidden vehicle, not a permit. I watched the rangers, stretched too thin,
Go by me without a glance. Someone had fallen somewhere, someone
Had stumbled in the Narrows. It was getting colder and darker,
Which is the way of change. The control panel of my vehicle displayed
All sorts of warning lights, but there's something to gliding along
Waiting for gravity, weakest of changers when near, longest of reach,
To decide your suspense is over. Don't look so surprised. Smile when you fall.
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