I own his belly and balls
I own this
the way his eyes roll
the way he eats hay
and shits and
stands up asleep
he is mine
this machine
like a blue train I used to play with
when my hands were smaller
and my mind better
I own this horse,
someday I will ride my horse
down all the streets
past the trees we will go
up the mountain
down the valley
ticks and eyes and balls
the both of us
we will go where kings eat
dandelions
in the giant sea
where thinking is not terror
where eyes do not go out
like Saturday night children
the horse I own and the myself I own
will become blue and nice and clean
again
and I will get off and wait for you.
Charles Bukowski - The Roominghouse Madrigals
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