Night Ride

I close my eyes and tuck myself into my soft blanket And before long, I feel something nudging my hand. And there it stands, a horse—a black beauty so intricate; Something quant about her: it’s like she belongs to another land Far away beyond this plane of existence. And neighing, She stares at me like a well-trained race horse looking for her rider. As I shrug my reluctance away, I stand on my bed and, jumping, Get myself on her back. Tame at first, she goes wild—and wilder. I held on to her tight, my fingers gripping into her flesh. Raging, oh, she picks up speed! Old graveyards and abandoned schools, Desolate shrines and run-down parks—all in my memory so fresh “By God, make her stop!”—my only thought as I cry like a fool. Through fingers’ failing strength, I lost my grip on her and backward I fell to my tight bed. Still sweating I still feel my fingers digging deep Into the night mare’s back; I tuck myself into the blanket, dead awkward Like a lost child finding his way home; having nowhere to comfortably sleep.