One Reply to “7.19.2015 Journal Prompt”

  1. It’s his job to break ‘em in. That’s what Solomon tells me. And horses aint used to no city noises, he says: the snip and snipe of car horns, and people shouting their sorry woes from every street corner, and dogs barking to hear that they is still dogs. Horses, they aint used to none of that shit, and so they needs acclimatizing. That’s what he does. And Solomon sits high on ‘em horses and he just rides ‘em easy through the streets of New York, looking like a prince out of a fairy tale.

    He says it aint always so easy though. A horse has its own mind, see, like a person has, and it wants to do just what it wants. Like when his brother joined the army, and the sergeant said he should drop and given him twenty, by which he means push-ups or squat thrusts, and well, his brother, he didn’t see that he had to do that, and that was something he had to learn – the hard way. And now Solomon’s brother is a soldier through and through, and he understands the importance of just doing and not questioning. There’s a strength in that and a strength that can be relied on. Same with horses.

    Solomon sitting princely on the back of one of ‘em horses, and he clicks his tongue ‘gainst the roof of his mouth and he talks soft to that horse, whispering small and with a music to all his words. And the horse is skittery on its feet at first, kicking sparks out of the road, and it pulls its head ‘gainst the reins and tosses the air and snorts or whinnies. And Solomon clicking with his tongue and saying ‘there, there now’ and he sits straight as straight ever is.

    And I hear him some days out in the street and I see him on his horse. And it does something to my insides, you know. And I reckon as hearts is like men as want to be soldiers, or horses that need acclimatizing to the city. Hearts don’t want to be doing what they is told to – they wants to be galloping and kicking the air and jumping over buildings in a single leap. And I have to tug on the reins, steadying my runaway heart, and not let Solomon see that I love him.

    The horses is his love, he said to me once. And he sleeps with ‘em some nights and when Solomon tells ‘bout that, well see, he is all in raptures over the smell of ‘em and the warm that they are and the gentle. He’s talking police horses, but he says all horses is just horses underneath. And he strokes ‘em, his hand flat and running on their sides, and I can feel the love in that stroking.

    Solomon, and when I lay me down to sleep, I dream of him and his hand on me same as on ‘em horses, stroking and slow. And his voice in my ear, the warm breath of it and the hush and hush and the music. And he’s saying, ‘there, there now’ and in the dream that is as close to ‘I love you’ as ever words can be. And the night is skittery and sparking, and blowing and sucking air, and running all ways in a panic.

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