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Array
(
[sid] => 67883
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Refrigerator Horses Dream-Galloping
[time] => 2004-10-18 01:40:59
[hometext] => A sad one . . . but then, it all depends on the way you look at it, I suppose.
[bodytext] => she drew pictures of horses blunt pencils, computer paper, worn down erasers nice, you know: sometimes their heads were too long or their saddles drawn wrong (they always had saddles, always reins, never riders) and she didn't always like how they turned out but her parents did, always they said the horses were beautiful "No idea where she got it from, Mark-- certainly not us; there's not an artistic gene in the family!" in school they asked her, "do you like horses a lot, dear?" she said, "I guess," she didn't particularly care for them, really they sort of scared her (not that she'd ever admit it) and besides, they smelled bad but nothing stopped the pencil scritch-scritching away one day someone told her, "that's not what horses look like." she replied, "it isn't?" and he said, "have you ever galloped?" whisper: "no." "Try it sometime. Then draw again." and it was funny, but after that she stopped drawing her horses she liked dogs better, anyhow and didn't horses smell bad? (her parents kept the horses pinned to the refrigerator, flat, dead) one night-- bays, buckskins, roans, appaloosas pounding hooves, sides heaving glistening velvet rainbow coats silky tails gliding on the wind and the sound of horseshoes striking the ground, louder louder and then she woke up (and there was silence) [comments] => 7 [counter] => 542 [topic] => 21 [informant] => ShadowDaughter [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 19 [ratings] => 4 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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