Here’s Where The Story Ends

What would it have been like if your life had turned out the way you wanted when you were a kid?

Sundappled Sunday on left and right coasts,
Beautiful from
Griffith Park to
the Battery;
Sunset strip
To
SoHo.
I rode a painted pony in the sand.

Saddle slapping tender in-thighs,
I endured your stings.
Silent father shouting
At distant mother
Loving
Present daughter;
Riding roughshod on a tender mare.

Slow stumble upon whip-worn trails,
Round and round
We go again.
Carousel horses;
Sundappled, Sunday ponies;
Perfectly painted; ready to ride.

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