Sunday, November 7, 2010
At first they prance around your head, like a wild horse. I feel them galloping in loops looking for a way out.
Usually at the strangest times, when someone is putting on their shirt, handing you a plate of eggs, brushing their teeth.
I'm holding the bridal fast, they're spirit has to find other ways to escape.
Through synonyms.
But one day the gate keeper will let his guard down for a moment, and those wild horses will take advantage of that tiny opening, they'll slip out even tripping over themselves in sudden excitement. Then there is no turning back, they run and run and run and never come back.
Did they just do get out?
Did I just say that?

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