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The wreckage lay in the sun. Twisted, charred and burned. Ticking and groaning as it cooled.

In Nevada the choppers scrambled. Men in black racing the locals to the scene.

Perimeter set, the clean up begins.

All of the evidence, both of the small grey bodies, removed.

To Area 51.

(c) Chris Johnson 2018

She lives in the void,
the gap between awake and asleep.
Don’t disturb the muse
with questions or mundane concerns,
leave her to think,
to dream ,
to inspire.

(C) Chris Johnson 2016