The Ride, The Badge

Tonight my memory is a palomino exuberantly hooved in an alpine meadow.

I ride the palomino bareback and fall off, replacing air in lungs with fear,

pushing fear out and breathing again. I hold out a sugar-cube on a flat palm

for my memory, which nuzzles with a soft gray mouth, nips

the cube, leaves lovely equine slobber. The tail flicks out at a fat fly, makes broom sounds.

Sunlight, the old sheriff, jumps up on my memory, and everything goes golden,

gathers into a bright badge of summer.