the tunnel painted on the cliff.
The painter followed in close pursuit;
suspending disbelief, speeding up.
He hit the wall. Flattened.
Peeled slowly off the rock.
Flat on the ground.
But this was not the end of the coyote.
The scene changed, and vigor re-entered him.
Up from the ground he arose.
Made a quick order to Acme,
and schemed anew.