of centaurs
November 21, 2007
a work in progress
“heard of centaurs?” he says,
stirring a pot of coffee in a cup,
overflowing onto bone china and sipped.
“half man, half horse,
trotting on two legs.”
and with that brief explanation
he begins to divulge the very
essence of a non-political
conspiracy theory, that man is
like this mutant in hind.
but where the beast was cleft in twain
and human joined to equine,
man was borne to man,
but not to man the same.
“You see,” he says with a grin
“I have the legs of Freud
which is why, rather than walk, I lie;
astute, sweaty and coy.”
the entire sexual prowess of a man in his mid fifties
summed up by Austrian geneology
and a rusty upper lip
“you see, it’s not just a horse thing
to go around wearing someone else’s head”
he eyes the stuffed noggin of a moose above the counter
contemplating just how many stitches it would take
before he too (by two) could be transformed
into one who is worthy of mounting