Wild Cat Run
by Mike Berger
by Mike Berger
Standing at the top of wildcat run,
the twenty-two year-old inside whispered,
"Piece of cake." Shuffling my skis to
get a good start, I pushed off. Soft power
snow leaped into the sky.
The first mogul was taken with this skill
of an Olympian, catching four feet of air.
Tucking into a racer's stance I flew. The
white world went whizzing by.
My body was filled with pure exhilaration
as I plummeted down. I didn't slow down
as I approached a major jump. I took it
in full blast. For a flickering moment I
thought I was going into orbit. Then I
came crashing down. The world went
blank—totally black. (three days later)
I get all the attention I want, sitting in
the lodge in my plaster casts
the twenty-two year-old inside whispered,
"Piece of cake." Shuffling my skis to
get a good start, I pushed off. Soft power
snow leaped into the sky.
The first mogul was taken with this skill
of an Olympian, catching four feet of air.
Tucking into a racer's stance I flew. The
white world went whizzing by.
My body was filled with pure exhilaration
as I plummeted down. I didn't slow down
as I approached a major jump. I took it
in full blast. For a flickering moment I
thought I was going into orbit. Then I
came crashing down. The world went
blank—totally black. (three days later)
I get all the attention I want, sitting in
the lodge in my plaster casts
Rejected by Stymie