If wishes
were
horses
they would be the bay kind,
brown and drab with black manes
and they would lazy around your field, chewing your grasses and snorting at flies,
whinnying,
"my kingdom for a wish"
on occasion,
and then they would
go back
to
the grass.
This thing is
alive,
I would think,
mounting its back
which rippled with
muscles and
swayed under me,
no machine,
it has
thoughts
and
it can feel me here
it can
knock me
off.
Noticing this
throws me
off
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