April 17, 2014 § Leave a comment

when I was a child
legend held
that there were,
if administered
in big a
enough dose,
any number of things alleged
to have killed a horse

cotton candy comes to mind
orange circus peanuts

my childhood was
littered with
dead horses

my twenties were witness to
bloated equine corpses
bobbing in
oceans of beer and whiskey
my blurry
meeting theirs
in sweet

I worked them to
death throughout
my thirties
bored them to death in
my forties
hours piled upon hours
as they pulled one end
to meet the other

excess is a memory
triggered by a kid
with that familiar
sugary psychotic stare
or the car of college
students peeling out
of the liquor store
parking lot

for me,
the glue factory gate
is locked

no longer
on my hands

(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead


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