This came about as we went by a dog track as we drove around wasting time. The lights on the sign basically spelled out: Greyhounds ---- of--- Derby ---- Lane -----. I just immediately thought it would make a great title, and a great metaphor (in my head) for the people that go there watching dogs chase a mechanical rabbit.
Enjoy.
*picture is originally from http://www.afterall.org/journal/issue.16/territory.measured.borders
01/11/2014 (Saturday)- The Greyhounds of
Derby Lane
They all come for the
rabbit.
Old men in yellow sweat stained
attire holding on to tickets and cob-webbed memories of dreams in past daily
races. Looking for lost glories through
glaucoma riddled eyes.
Young
men who have hit rock bottom, clinging to tickets like rosaries—wooden beads of
last hopes and absent dreams, their whispered prayers and easily-broken promises
pouring out from helpless lips.
The
dogs come because they don’t know any better.
The dogs come but they don’t
understand whispered prayers.
The dogs come but they hold no
sentimentality for cob-webbed dreams.
They all come for the rabbit.
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