There is something I have forgotten. My fingers trace deja-vu in the air. The quarter madness has abated, for now. I am left to dry of the line: a pair of well worn jeans. And, like old jeans, I am unable to give the torment to goodwill. The years of companionship turn the act into a betrayal. I wear jeans till loose strings get stuck in the spokes of my bicycle. I crash, skin my knees and toss the bloody rags into the incinerator. The duplicity of this act is not lost on me.
Standing up, fingers of sherbet clouds lick the horizon, sunset. Venus shines, I know it's a planet, I wish anyway. As I wish my heart beats hot blood through my veins, pulling it through arteries. Thump da-dum. Praying for humanity and a bowl of rice, I start the long walk home. Light filters through the treetops. It fades and eyes once again my eyes adjust to darkness. Darkness never bothers me, I eat plenty of carrots.
I also feed carrots to Idesia, a horse and my friend. She, unlike the cat, would make a terrible muff (I think a rug would be more suitable). Being back in the saddle was difficult. I felt gangly as a twelve year-old. My elbows would fly, my knees and feet slapping rhythmically against the mare's side. That by no means is proper equitation. My body is coming under control. My leg muscles are strengthening considerably, my eyes are open and observant; I have acquired the flow of dialog.
No comments:
Post a Comment