XXIV.

I polished my metal horse today, it was beginning to tarnish. I must not forget to do the important things. I love that horse. I would never want to see it filmy. I sometimes worry about what will become of it when I am gone. I hope it will be taken good care of. I took it with me to the Crabble and everyone commented how nice it was.

 

         The horse is my savior. It doesn't befall me or laugh at me, like lazur does. Their faces I can still remember plainly, they looked at me weird. I have never forgiven them. Polish set domes over heads they succumbed to being more than me. The universe patrons they were as archtypes to the local parades, and bands -- Santa Clause riding down the main street of every town at the same time, three days before the holidays. He must have time, the man changes quickly. The survivors of that era have nothing to thank except each scuba diving tank outfit they were equipped for, ready to handle being in air-less territory for long periods of time. Complaints went overboard hardly one time. Somebody lost a lot of weight, betrayed his image that we all know so well, shattered our thoughts on mass lassitudal sameness year after year. Something told us or at least me that sameness cannot extend past a certain limit of years. Things differ because they have to. I agree when I see that, eight years ago, I was slightly different, but isn't that the limit? I don't know, no one told me the rest of the story. I think that is what led me astray.

RIVER BED   86

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