Julep

At the horserace you sat
among your friends

and watched the too
-extravagant pageantry

of Kentucky. It was the end
of poem season and you

had written about food
that morning, wishing

for something healthier
to say about yourself.

While you were away
the dogs back home

ate half a dozen donuts
before being thwarted,

and this felt significant
to you at the time, a little

synchronicity, the weight
of all this membership

in the creaturehood
of overindulgence.

Later you all drove back
to Ohio, and you bought

diet soda at the border
between states, another

of your usual compromises.
It’s always seemed to you

that nothing could change.