It wasn’t like me
but I did it
stuck the little buds in my ears
my son’s playlist—
Daft Punk, Kanye West, AC/DC, Beirut—
blasting my entire body with rhythm
driving hard, then harder.
At the top of Mt. Pluto,
I picked the steepest run
bent my knees more deeply
leaned forward
let the edges of my skis
slice into the line of my descent.
I picked up speed
real speed.
Pulse on pulse with the music
my breath, my bones,
meeting this new force.
My thighs burned with every
lunge and turn, screaming as I flew.
The shushing of ski over snow,
the clatter of ski over ice,
the spray of crystalline dust.
I felt like I imagine a young man feels—
the raw force of the earth
mine to take,
the mountain undoing
its white blouse
for me.