Window Shopping

Just before 7:30 AM
a hairy, chocolate-colored pony
pokes his head
out of his stall for a treat.

His little lips pucker, his
dark, deep eyes and
smooth, cool body
shake down the clouds.
What a cutie!

No one asks me to leave
the overcrowded barn
as I attract attention
window shopping
the labyrinth of stalls-
no, trespassing,
thinking of the horse
I used to own.

The air vibrates
while men unload
the giant beasts.
New horse shoes
slip through the dusty gates
as I sneak past
pitchfork-wielding
young women.

*A poem cut out of a magazine and woven together

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