Despite the moniker, I rarely make things up...
Scavenging For Memories, I Dream In Color
There they were, all lined up
on a garden shelf, fifty-seven horses
nostrils flaring, bodies hollow
and stuck inside them,
unlike the Trojan,
big yellow stars
barely visible through their tails.
I could never afford him
but I wanted the marked stallion,
the one set in Venice
with the masked, two-headed rider
jumping gondolas manned by nude women,
their elongated hands stained half blue.
The split madder heart placed deep
between the continents of the only elephant
appeared to be symbolic so I stole it.
“You did this?” asked the therapist.
“Yes, I did it for you.
Do you think I’m crazy?
Should I keep it?”
“Damn straight” he said.