horse fly

the young man with his cap on backwards
came up to me at the racetrack
and asked, “who do you
like?” and I answered,
“don’t you know that when you tell your
horse to somebody else that it never
runs?”
he acted as if he hadn’t
heard:   “who do you like in the
exacta?”
“I don’t bet exactas,” I told
him.
“why?” he
asked.
“because they take a 20 percent
cut,” I responded.
he acted as if that fact had nothing
to do with anything.
in a further effort to delete him from
my existence
I stated, “I don’t bet daily doubles,
parlays, quinellas or
trifectas.”
it was useless:    “who do you like
in this race?” he
repeated.
“Your Mother’s Ass,”
I informed
him.

as he checked his program
I walked
off.