My old man used to take me to the track

Showed me how to key the top horse

Sprinkle in some long shots, he’d say

Oh, and son, it takes money to make money


He’d smoke his stoag’, pound his beers

Imploring me with his simple wisdom

Life is way too short not to…

Not to what dad? Just not to


He never played the favorites

Even money is like kissin’ your sister

And win bets?

Well those are for pussies


My formula was simple

Name + color + number

Times the square root of lifetime wins

Divided by the odds, plus two


We studied the programs in silence

A father and son crack team

And usually not on purpose

We’d make the same goddamned face


I was eleven when I hit my first big one

Trifecta box, because I wasn’t a pussy

Paid almost two large

Never made dad more proud


Steak and lobster on my son!

We went to Ruth’s to celebrate

I tipped the waiter a hundred

And fell asleep on the drive home


It’s been over a decade since

And about a dozen girls 

Always done after they go down twenty

Always win, place, and show