Old Avenger
by Countee Quince
Fifteen to one, he said. Three miles, two furlongs, good to soft. And he had an operation a week ago too, trainer said he wasn’t breathing well in his last race. Good earner if it comes through.
“Dementia,” I say, “don’t put your fingers in the milkshake.” I only call her Dementia cause she doesn’t answer t [ ... ]
. . Old Avenger is being led into the number five post. Riding on board is the jockey in two shades of blue and he’ll be ra [ ... ]
We’re over the hill and heading towards Santorel, a town where time bides the only answers that I seek. Pordova is with me. [ ... ]
“I wish I could say I liked him. I want even more to hate him, but I don't. There's just apathy. I don't know how to fight [ ... ]
Fifteen to one, he said. Three miles, two furlongs, good to soft. And he had an operation a week ago too, trainer said he wasn’t breathing well in his last race. Good earner if it comes through.
Pordova lives outside of Portland in a house with a wall that should have been a deck; long floorboards run its length and break, intersect, and align.
Clara looks beyond the pastel colors of the homemade streamers and through the window. A trick of the dying light makes the whole world peach for a brief glimmering moment.
Dementia got up and started wandering, tasting food from the plates of strangers.
My father took me to the tryouts, trying to reassure me and calm me down, even though he had absolutely no interest in baseball. My mother was the avid baseball fan, starting with her love of the Brooklyn Dodgers when my parents first moved to Manhattan from Toronto.
Mark Wisniewski’s most recent novel, Show Up, Look Good, was published by Gival Press in August of 2011. His other published works include the novel, Confessions of a Polish Used Car Salesman (Hi Jinx Press, 1997), a collection of short stories, All Weekend with the Lights On (Leaping Dog Press, 2001), and a book of narrative poems, One of Us One Night.
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