POETRY KITe ANTHOLOGY

MOVING ON

I have given up writing for the
small magazines
I want to make it BIG

I have taken my belongings to the
Bay Meadow's Race Track
and directed my mail be forwarded
to Radio Shack

In between the daily double
and the $5 Exacta
you will find me sitting alone
in the grandstands
next to the news vendor
with no hands
my eyes searching for the
woman of my dreams
spread out across the rail
my seed spilled on the grass
waiting to haul ass
if my car doesn't run out of gas
and the Pope is willing
to grant me absolution after
Sunday Mass