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The Biking Teeter Totter
October 8, 2008
Screech, wooosh,
I’m on top of it before I know it,
I go three fourth’s of the way and stall,
I wait there, motionless
Listening to the medal grind and churn,
The front starts moving slowly,
But keeps gaining speed,
It plumets twoard the ground,
Then SMASH!
It hits, sending a plume of dust flying,
My shocks compress,
And I ride off the front,
Onward to the next terrain
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