--- 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.