Dark Cross, the Poem

‘Twas the day before DarkCross and all ’round the track
the course tape was stretched out without any slack.The banners were hung on the fencing with care,
In hopes that the sponsors would make people stare.

The t-shirts were nestled all snug in their boxes,
Just waiting to go home with hotties and foxes.

The Dark Lord in his deer hat and I in my skort
Were marvelling over the fun of our sport.

All of a sudden I heard a loud clatter
And figured I should go see what was the matter.

Away to the flyover I hastily dashed
To see who’s poor toes it had probably smashed.

The clouds in the sky were an ominous sign
But Graham assured us that all would be fine.

“Don’t fret about lightning,” he said with a smile.
“The tallest thing out here is certainly Lyle.”

Later that evening the crowd started to thicken.
As my race time came closer I started to sicken.

The course would be tough with some frightening speed
And like you, dear reader, I don’t like to bleed.

Our petite commissaire called us up for our seeding
My heart might explode with the speed it was beating.

“Now Jason! Now Milo! Now Anna and Ian!
On Cameron! On Lincoln! On Trevor and Steven!”

“To the front of the line, get your ass off the wall!
Now ride away! Ride away! Ride away all!

Like a herd of wild bison the racers they thundered.
“What the hell am I doing?” I silently wondered.

And then, in an instant, I heard the crowd roaring.
Life without DarkCross would be so damn boring!

We flew ’round the track and dashed up the run-up.
The flashes and pyro lit the sky like at sun-up.

We crashed and we tangled, we flatted and fumbled.
We sweated and dry heaved and cursed and we tumbled.

But when it was over and our breathing came back,
We ran to the bar for a beer and a snack.

We took off our skin suits, grabbed our bells from the truck
To heckle the A Race and tell them they suck.

And now that it’s over, we shed a small tear
Until we remember we’ll do it next year.

So plaster a smile on your dirt-splattered faces
And get your ass out to the next seven races.

The End.