I rise to my feet along with the rest of the room
Colors flash before my eyes
Temporarily blurring the vision I hold close
I hear shouts
Are they the good kind or
The ones I dread to witness?
The racing colors are long gone now
Disappeared into the early evening dusk
I shrink back into my chair
Washed away of color as well
An eternity elapses as I blink
The heaviest eyelids I’ve ever known
Nostalgic smells of victory
Enlaced in that of flat beer
And sordid cigarette butts
I’m breathing, but can’t remember
If I ever did before
I think I’m going to be sick
Yes, the consequences of losing. And now, the consequences of all of the dog tracks shutting down. Recently I've taken to singing "Camp Town Races" a little ditty from two centuries ago.
"Went to the races with my hat caved in, came back home with a pocketful of tin…"
“We’re going to use nine megaton warheads in space and we’re not sure they’re large enough to be effective. Why would you even consider using kiloton-range surface-to-air warheads as back-up?” The answer was succinct. “Because they’re all we have.”
Jeff Martin, his friend, Hawk, and his dachshund dog are captured by Osage Indians. Eventually they escape and find their way home. Due to his unusual shape Adolphus is called a Spirit Dog.
She was quite capable of taking care of herself...She appreciated everything he was doing for her and the Grandmothers Four, but she needed his help, not for him to take over.
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"Went to the races with my hat caved in, came back home with a pocketful of tin…"
Ron
Nostalgia can be a pretty bad thing because it deprives you of living your life in the present reality.
Sandie