winning isn't out there somewhere

it's right inside your head

the same place happiness exists

like shooting free throws blindfolded

you've shot a million of them

the muscles remember that stroke

like jumping off in the deep end

that moment feet sense bottom

pushing for the surface instinctively

when the mind is so focused

that x's and o's drop away

ringing like a crystal bell in subzero, radiating into space

pulsating so purely that the four around you

echo back in simpatico

it's just damn luck and focus

and that perfect no look jump

pass into history

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