Before first paw hits track, anonymous
controller’s hand hits the switch.
Lucky flies around the track. Ears back,
he is a filthy streak of mechanics and fur.
In this moment of unchased bliss, he is free.
As he rounds turn after turn, I watch and wonder if
he envisions a digital field, a makeshift meadow
full of daisies and butterflies scattering
beneath paws that have never actually touched
the ground.