There is a line
A line of blue people
Short shorts and tight shirts
One by one they disappear
Then there is just me
I spring up and down
I close my eyes
I grin and I wave at my wingman
I shake my head one more time
And put my foot on my mark
It is my turn to disappear
My spikes anchor me to the ground
My knee is bent and I rock back and forth
Focus
Focus
Now?
Now
1
2
3
5
6
Jump

