After a day at the skate park about 3 years ago.--Incomplete
The sound of metal on metal,
As the trucks scrape the coping
screeches of plastic on asphalt
as corners are turned and bowls are carved.
An unspoken brotherhood breathes
Through the old, young, new, and am.
A trick landed always clapped for
A crash followed with
Ocassionaly a fire truck leaves
the station next Door
the cursings of bails and Bad landings
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