You open the door

and my legs are chaotic spandex.
You pick me up by my torso
with the fingers of a wild referee.
Daft eyes can’t help me now.
It’s time to show the future how to wrestle,
how to follow the passion that keeps you
up at night. Come on then Dad,
you say. Let’s see what you’re made of.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

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