first stop

your first rented
apartment
was on the ground floor,
two thirty five per month
including utilities.
it backed up
to the woods, beyond
the woods was a racetrack.
you stuck
a stick in the door
to keep intruders out,
the sliding
window too.
sometimes at night,
you'd open the window
or sit out on the slab
of patio and drink a beer,
swat the bugs away
with a newspaper.
you'd listen
to the races being called.
you could see
the light glowing beyond
the trees, smell the barns,
the grass,
hear the stomping of
hooves and the muffled
roar of a crowd
winning next to nothing.
you didn't know where you
were headed next,
but it wouldn't be hard
to top this.