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--- J E F F E R S O N   C A R T E R

I've got twenty minutes to plan an elegant bet, a three-horse exacta box, two longshots & a filly I love, whose grandsire & dam I remember. Love, a word horseplayers use a lot. I also love this, pedaling my bike to the track, steering past sprinklers & the occasional old man in a sun hat hoeing weeds. What would I do if one keeled over, clawing his heart? I can't stop. I'm imagining the horses' heads bobbing in the starting gate, the ticket I've asked for safe inside my breast pocket.

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