Student Publishing Program ::

Alexander Quatrano

So Much

As the lift approaches its end
My pulse quickens
Every muscle is wired
Ready to be thrown into action.

I strap in so tight that a simple twitch
Can distort the board
So much control
But none at all

The wind rushes by so fast
By my ears and through my coat
So much noise
But none at all

A single heart
A single mind
A single edge
Cutting through the snow

Snow blows by
And burns my face as I go
So much pain
But none at all

Back down I go
To heat and cushions
So much comfort
But none at all

[BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS, CLASS OF 2008 EDITION]