You were a horse yesterday; what happened? I rode you places under the hot sun. You fought off flies with your tail and we galloped knee deep through rivers. When apples fell off the tree and we weren’t in a big hurry, I let you bend down and eat them. You loved every minute of it, I thought. Just the word “saddle” sounds erotic. Didn’t you say that? You either said it or thought it. I liked wearing spurs and petting you. The way you shook your head a vehement no to mean yes? I got a lot out of that. We hate change, remember? We used to throw rocks at the stars and talk about how much we hated change. Come on back to me, horse. Nail your shoes on one at a time with your fingers and trot home.
Molly Laich lives inside her laptop. You can find parts of her at wigleaf, Necessary Fiction, PANK, Specter Magazine and so on. Molly tweets about fruit @MollyL and blogs about love at http://www.mollylaich.com.
image: Heather Reynolds
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