Pello’s Tribute (Stage 10) Seconds, Fragile as lace, Boil away on hot roads. Relentless attacks all day long. The words “Hold on” Clanging like bells on every rise In the break’s brains. A chance To win and shed A tear. Quadruple Disaster (Stage 11) Skies full Of haze. Heavy Legs and dense trees, some light Rain in the rolling heart of France. Spray clouds Vision, The fast run-in thick with tension. Sprint trains dwindle and then The green jersey Blasts off. Another Quaff from the Cup of Victory (Stage 12) Angry Tornadoes of Legs, chains, and spokes rush down The grape-vined hills, smashing the race To bits. Thirst quenched From an already popped bottle Is as satisfying As the ageless First drop. Bonification (Stage 13) The line Of riders, mouths Vacuuming air, whiplash Along the ridge road. The mountain Glows green. The trees Sink into blue shadows. Crowds part Zipper-like. Are these Seconds gained or Time lost? Forces of Nature (Stage 14) Riders Strewn like wind-blown Confetti tumble along The course, gravity’s curse biting At them. A bike Race is an attempt to undo Physics. Ascent. Descent. The magnetism Of speed. Deadlock (Stage 15) Chalets And sunlight. Tired Cornering shreds a few Shorts. An arm chops half the race down. Someone Will cross The line first of course. But so much Can happen on many Miles. It’s still so Unclear.
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