In All the Excitement I Forgot to Ask His Name

In the middle of a walk
across San Diego’s famed Balboa Park
one damp, sea-soaked morning,
I was politely introduced

by a woman in a blue jogging suit
to the third fastest whippet in America,
a young, wiry, white and tan creature
crouching tensely by her side.

He can cover 200 yards in il seconds
and crosses the tape at 35 miles per hour,
she told me, as we stood
under an enormous eucalyptus tree.

The dog was paying no attention.
He was staring straight ahead
across what looked like 200 yards of open lawn,
restrained by a special leather leash.

Young, wiry, white and tan,
poised at the end of a century of breeding,
his tail was coiled under his belly,
he had 11 seconds dancing in his eyes.