No More Hollow Gallops
No more will my high horse be ridden.
by Lawrence S. Pertillar
No more hollow gallops taken on trails empty,
To vent unknown and misunderstood frustrations.
No more will I see the faces with lines dredged,
Upon foreheads scurrying along in tunneled visions!
I have never been that far apart,
From observations tugging at my heart!
I chose not to see them disconnected from me.
And from a high horse I dismounted...
I needed them to know I need them in my life!
Like I am hopefully needed in theirs.
I remember what it was that had me,
Stepping over cracks...
On sidewalks in need of repair to support
The sight of addicts.
Some on crack and others just cracking!
With excuses that lack forgiveness.
Many are still there wishing for good luck...
But getting fucked for the effort!
And enjoying playing the blame game,
As they systematically bend over from the waist...
To spread cheeks as expected.
I have not forgotten I too am branded.
If I can tell someone...
I have chosen not to remind myself...
Of that which I do not keep in practice.
Would it be believed?
Would those who wear hearts on their sleeves,
Or should I get back on my high horse...
Jump the fence and leave?
Just to prove again,
Have become addicted to routines.
And beating dead horses has not yet made
The ride any smoother.