The Poet and the Melbourne Cup

'I write some of my best poetry during
The Melbourne Cup,' he said.
We waited.
'See,' he went on,
'Most of the time you're going round
And you're picking up Thoughts.
Everyone else's thoughts!
All around you
Like dragonflies.
How dare she say that?
What are we going to do about Mum?
What's for dinner?
I love those shoes.
Endless. On and on.
But for those minutes
In the first Tuesday in November -
Radio silence.
And my thoughts, my thoughts!
Lift their head
And break from the pack
And fly from the ground like clods
To shatter the roar.'