when I was a racetrack junkie

Jazz musician friend Alan and I were recently discussing our art forms. Alan sent me his favourite poem, Pile-up, by Charles Bukowski. I replied with my track poem. There's something so visceral about the track most poets can't avoid it. I well remember the evening when Toronto poet jones (Daniel, RIP) bet a large chunk of his welfare check at Greenwood.    

The Poet is Waiting at the Racetrack

The poet is waiting at the racetrack
has boxed the 3 longest shots in the final race
hopes for a long triactor payoff
The poet is waiting for 3 overdue losers
to prove that there is justice in the world
poetic justice

The poet is promising while he paces
others may pray
The poet is promising half the winnings
to the Nicaraguan Revolution
half the winnings
to publishing unknown Canadian poets
half the winnings to buy a house
to share with his girlfriend and fledgling press
half the winnings so they won't have to work
half the winnings to his racetrack buddies
The poet promises on
his math is terrible

He defies the odds and all logic
while smog rolls off Lake Ontario
One day the Marines will pull out of Grenada
one day all workers will organize
and on this fated day the Canada Council
and the Clique of Canadian Poets will honour him

Seagulls soar squawking above the finish line
hope springs eternal in the nasal voice
of the announcer
3 lame longshots are loping clear from the smog
of the far turn
heading for home in a dream of poetic justice
the racetrack poet knows is coming
as sure as Jesus Christ
the Governor General's Award
and the Marine invasion of Nicaragua

Chris Faiers


published in Foot Through the Ceiling 
Aya Press, Toronto, 1986

I received the inaugural Milton Acorn People's Poetry medal for this collection in 1987