Neptune 2/4
Fear of Horses
Their height. Their strength. Their mystery. Motors had dropped them in favor of myths, so how could I think of riding one?
I could watch Zorro, and admire his flare with lightning bolts, but I couldn’t pick out Pegasus in the sky. Some constellations depend on more than a steady eye and faith.
Bellerophon would have won the Kentucky Derby in his day, but he paid the price for testing Zeus’ patience.
When you’re fatherless, no one offers you a boost up into the stirrups to chance your life with a headstrong beast. But I preferred to walk at my pace and be splattered with their clay.
I didn’t miss the lather. Or the sweaty risk.
Spit Taming
I must have been six or seven when my game with spit began. I had these tartan slippers that I’d sneak into bed with me after lights out. I’d swirl a pool of spit in my mouth then let it stream carefully onto the soft black soles. The trick was to tip it just so the fluid crisscrossed the length and width of the sole without dripping over the edge.
I got good at it. I got very good at it. If spit streaming had been an Olympic sport, I’m sure I would have been up there for Ohio.
It’s the kind of thing you do as an only child. Often.
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