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First Start Line
As dreaded as middle school slow dance.
My outfit is not right
and they are shaking
my knees—I think suddenly
how lucky, the trees.
What are we doing here
most unlady and like the rest
find nobody belongs.
I remind myself of the first time
I toed the line
And remember
everything is going to be fine.
Other poems by Alexi:
Prepping For A Race
Insight Into The Competitive Runner
“Before”—Poem About The Olympics