I am a stooper, my dad was too; ya know what that is? I’ll tell ya. People love to bet at the horse races. A lot of them know what they are doing and a lot just don’t understand how the system works. I mean the parimutuel system that the tracks use. Ya make a bet, they give you a ticket with the bet on it. If you win, ya take the ticket back and they pay you off. Lotsa people can’t figure out if they won and they throw a certain percentage of winning tickets away, believing they’ve lost. The track has invented some pretty fancy kinds of bets that are indeed difficult to figure out, the track makes lotsa money from these unclaimed winnings. They are lying around all over the track.

I look for the Perfecta and Trifecta bets that have been bought boxed; easy for the uninformed to make mistakes here. I stare at them, let my eyes defocus a little, and I see a violet aurora at the edges of these tickets. I inherited this aurora vision from my dad; saves the time of picking ‘em all up and reading them.

Bored, ashamed,
floating in a gold sky, in deep
ecstasy, all secrets told, the son
of a lion is out looking for heart-
blood to drink. Rumi

George's selection of 66 Phlogs is available in print from People's Press.

Posted in phlog | No Comments