the time of your life

from my second floor
balcony at the brinkley
house garden apartments
you could see the dome
of fog and bright lights
over the dark horizon,
and you could hear
the races being
called at the harness
track that was through
the woods, and over
a great expanse of
parking lots. rosecroft
raceway. the calls
of the races were
shrill, high pitched
and echoed with crazy
urgency by the time
they reached me,
sitting on my balcony
with crystal, whose real
name was christine,
but she changed it
when she became a
professional dancer.
and she used to ask
me all the time to
go to the track with
her, to bet on the
ponies, but i said
no, you go honey,
take your stack of
ones and have fun, and
she said but it's more
fun with you there. i
like doing things with
you, and she'd smile
and wiggle her assets
a little, and i thought
about it as we sipped our
mateuse wine in plastic
tumblers, swatting
mosquitoes from the
nearby creek. nah, i
told her. i can only
bet on one bad horse
at a time, but you go,
have fun. have the time
of your life.