O, Batter my heart, I say to this cowboy after
he enthrall[s] me, saddles up next to me and when two drinks in begins telling
me about his life.
He begins telling me
(after my shifts, I go into the bar, still in my get-up, as this horse, I basically hate my life, captived, where I sell snow cones from a cart in a petting zoo, as this horse. [Ev]eryday, “A horse walks into a bar, the bartender says why the long face?” on and off, ashamedly for years.
And so my life goes. I never shall be free.)
Anyway this cowboy, still in my get-up, as this horse, begins to knock, to breathe, and seek to mend me, to
break, blow, burn and make me new as he
when two drinks in begins telling me, “It’s a real magical place.”
He was able to buy a ranch.
“A place,” he says to me, “Sitting up against the far mountains.”
He grabs hold of my mane and says,“a place your vicory in me, me should defend.”
I’m thinking, should defend me?
“But cowboy, God—” I say to him. But I grunt at him and shake my head.
“[Fuck your] [r]eason” he says to me, “your [r]eason proves weak or untrue.”
“But I am betrothed unto your enemy,” I motion at the bartender.
He nods, not realizing that I’m being sarcastic.
He leans in. “Horsey,” he says to me. “I really really want to ride you.”
I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something about that really really.
(that I may rise[?]) that makes me feel sorry for him.
“But cowboy God,” I say to him, “yet you as yet but knock, but oh, to no end.
I am betrothed unto your enemy. I’m a horse, yes, but I’m also a man dressed as a horse.” I say. “[I] am to this petting zoo due.”
I neigh and nod my big horse head.
But he leans over again. “Horsey,” he says to me. “I really really want to ride you.”
“Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,” really in an effort to get out of this body suit, I say to him. “Take me to you, then, imprison me, for I—I sometimes forget that I’m a horse, yes, but I’m also a man.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how this relationship is going to work,” he says.
I’m thinking, Whatever. Batter my heart. I’ve seen your type everywhere, [y]our force… Yet dearly cowboy, I Labour to admit you.
“What’s the blindfold for?” I ask.
And he says to me, “Whoa, now, horsey, not so fast.”
I could just as easily buck you off the stage and send you crashing into the orchestra pit, I’m thinking.
I pretend that this last part didn’t happen.
“To [w]hich far mountains?” I say.
“[D]early I love you,” he says to me, “and would be loved fain.”
“Ha, ha” I say to him, and nod at the bartender to pour me a drink.”
Maybe because I’m mostly drunk or whatever, and because I basically hate my life and have nothing better to do tonight but go home and fall to sleep on the couch in front of the television after eating two chicken pot pies, I lean over finally, thinking, [S]ure, blow, burn, and make me new. Take me to your magical ranch. Take me to you.
“But Cowboy, three-personed God,” I say. “I [l]abour to admit you, but I’ve never been ridden,” I say. “[L]ike an usurp’d town,” I neigh.
But this only seems to be turning him on. “Is that so?” he says.
Again, I nod my big horse head and neigh.
I let the cowboy pay our bills and lead me out to his truck.
“Yep, that’s so,” next to his truck I say. “Except you enthrall me.
“Because I’m a bronc buster,” he says and smiles, and I agree to be roped up in the trailer next to a donkey.
I grunt at him. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, betroth’d, and I must untie you, or break that knot again.”
I neigh and nod. Again?
“Burn and make me new? But is it really magical?” I say.
“Giddyup. Hear what I’m saying?”
“I never shall be free.”
“Nor ever chaste.” He nods toward the horse trailer in back. He says that he knew it as soon as he first saw me after walking into the bar.
I rise as he ties a blindfold around my eyes. He’s chewing something in the dark.
“[E]xcept you ravish me.”
“Then we’ve found our match,” he smiles.
“Now o’erthrow me! [A]gainst the trailer floor!” I say. I’m a horse, yes, but I’m also a man. I neigh.