the mountain tops stand towering high above me.
one-hundred and ten degrees outside
thats nothing
the black top weaving to the city steams of heat

the waterless state of beauty

the sunlight bouncing off the city lights
and onto you.
the wind walts through the valley
the busy streets start to hum

I look up at all the wandering clouds above me,
Do you remember walking on the creaking wooden planks?
Or atleast sitting by your side?
I miss you, Las Vegas Nevada.

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