the yellow plastic horse appears shell shocked. i suspect it’s the rusty spring in its stomach, not in its step. its four limbs are above ground. i do not watch it vomit blood, the way my horse did in my other life. a life of fire and arrows and the corpse of a queen. you can play tic tac toe, by turning yellow cubes on a pole. one side is x, the other, zero. hugs and kisses. things explicitly missing from my current age in life. the way children are missing from this place. but it is midnight anyway. a couple in matching grey clothes walk past. the t-shirt on the boy says, try, try, try. it’s a sign to me. to flog the dead horse of my heart. but after this cigarette please. if i feel like it. if i feel i won’t be distracted by the presence of a little girl in a pink dress, watching me from behind the tree. i think i should leave. for this is her haunt, and not mine.
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