but were the horses real?

a true poem (but aren't all poems true?)

i am the fly on the horses back

the one you see the week your brother dies

on the way to day four of sitting shiva

but you don’t see me /how could you?

you see the horse

you see my horse/my ride

brown and shiny

unmissable

but you can’t see me/how could you?

my horse/my ride

galloping up topanga canyon blvd

you pull over to the side of the road to watch

closely/safely/intently

now there’s more!  five horses, no riders (not counting me)

but why count me? i am only a fly

five horses galloping down the middle of a street in the San Fernando Valley

in the middle of the day

you look around, your face asks the wind,

Hey, is anyone else seeing this?

your mouth falls open and stays that way, cherry Slurpee pours out, a wet neon waterfall falls onto your lap

you were thinking about the first time your brother took you riding in the Hollywood Hills

your horse took you too close to the edge

you didn’t like it

your horse was unpredictable
you didn’t like it

your big brother kept saying, hey everyone, this is my seeeester.  my little seeeester! isn’t she cute?
you did like it. (even though you said you didn’t)

you think your memory made a moment /this moment

but you think maybe it could be real

maybe my brother sent them

You watch five horses with no riders galloping up Topanga Canyon Blvd while your car fills itself with cherry Slurpee and you let yourself drown in the sweet