I realize today I’ve never seriously doubted I will win
love, fame and happiness,
despite starting late in the race for a man’s love,
the race for poetic fame, and the race for earthly happiness.
I am a favored son and so, in love’s racetrack, run in my favorite lane.
In chasing fame, I am a workhorse, and a workhorse must have its day.
And I have sewn up the race for earthly happiness,
for I relish the taste of wind on my sweaty flank,
the tug of rein, the nudge of thighs, blood’s excitement and everyday,
so when I pass the finishing post,
I’m ready to be led to water and hay.
Plan for this poem-in-progress