Epic, part 1

Changing is the hardest part:
Stripping to the skin with cold hands;
Swapping warm layers, office smart
For chilly lycra with reflective bands.
Then out again to frigid air,
To stand and wait, and shiver, hard,
And watch my wrist with focused stare,
While satellites align amid the stars.
Then, as I fear I’ll turn to ice,
A gentle buzzing lets me know:
I can now press a button, twice,
And satellites will track me as I go.

Buzz: kilometre zero at zero-point-zero.


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