The front seat, moving at 60 miles an hour.
Loud music blasting in your ears.
Hands cold from the adrenaline.
Hope that your gearbag has everything.
All of a sudden, you hear the buzzer.
The barrel moves up as quick as quick can be.
Fingers never letting up.
Instinct tells you to move.
'Left corner! '
'Snake one! '
You know whats going on.
Then you forget.
The TechPB videos take over.
Your slide is perfect.
Finish off the round.
Triumph at 12.5 balls per second
Nicholas Louie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/12-5-balls-per-second/
