O, Pony, My Pony,
You’re such a grand bird.
A face as long as a summer’s grin
And those four long things sticking out of your torso.
I could search far and wide for a creature,
A creature as breath-absconding as you,
O Pony!
But I would never in a trillion dog’s years find one
To even equal one zillion-trillionth of a billion of your majesticness.
And therefore, I won’t even bother.
I have better things to do.
O, Pony, what sadness is locked behind your eyes?
Seriously, what is it? You have a field and hay and shit,
What else could you need? I’m not a man made of money!
Forgivings, my Pony, I take it all back like Grandma’s Christmas presents.
Pony, in a certain light,
You look as though you are glowing from within.
And if I squint, you look blurry and blob-esque.
Sometimes I mistake you for a regular horse by accident.
My shame envelops me like
A sock envelops a foot.
Snugly.
My every thought is of you; my every breath stinks like you do.
Durst you think upon me, Pony?
Huh? Durst you?
Sometimes I feel as though you aren’t even listening to me.
Especially when you turn away and spontaneously poop.
I can’t take you anywhere.
And it hurts my soul, like if
My soul had fingers which were slammed
In a car door or my soul had an arm
And it like slept on it wrong.
The pain is palpable, like a glass of orange juice.
But Pony, I cannot quit you.
Your elusive whatever is just so,
Dot dot dot. You know?
It drives me up the wall,
Whenst I proceed to dance upon the ceiling.
Gasping for air,
Grasping for hair,
Wasping for bear,
Flossing for Cher. It’s all relative.
Pony, here’s the deal.
Your hair is soft, your scent
Mysterious. You have a tail.
The world rotates, the skeleton grins
A cherry pit rictus in the sea
Of the universe of the world and
Blah blah Pony blah blah blah blah.
You have a frightening innocence, Pony,
Like an Anne Geddes photo.
No other of my pets has captured my attraction
As the way that you capturing have thus been captured of it, you.
My sea monkeys, they leave me cold as the water for which they stand.
My ferret, she feels nothing, does nothing, says nothing, is nothing.
My anaconda don’t want none unless you’re Jon Voight, hon.
O Pony, when you run, unfettered
Unconscious, unburdened in a field
It’s as if a choir of angels and demons
And eunuchs and rock and roll superstars
Are running in a field.
I love you two times, Pony.
Love you twice today.
I am like Jim Morrison with 75% more shirt.
Pony, pony, pony, pony, you must answer my pleadings.
Do you like me back as well?
Is my love in vain,
Or is it arterial?
Send me a response, to me.
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please.
My heart, it pounds for you, tell-talelely.
My blood pressure palpitates, like a glass of orange juice.
My hands shake.
My teeth yellow.
My pajamas footie.
All for you. All for one-
All for love!
Do you get it, Pony?
Do you comprehend with your equine intellect?
You see, life is a lot like, well, like one of you, a Pony.
No, scratch that. Life is like a dolphin,
Punching swimmers and chewing gum,
Like the dolphin do, drunk on power
And tuna fish.
But my love, she is like a tree,
Fully in blossom,
Or the opening credits of the TV show Blossom.
Happy, yet ever changing, and
Accompanied by Ted Wass.
And now I have outpoured myself like a Forty,
And you remain ever stoic. Unfeeling, horsey, even.
And so I cry.
I cry like a baby.
I cry like a big baby girl.
A pretty precious cooing crying big baby girl.
“Whatsa matter? You hungry? You need a change?” I ask myself.
But no answer comes. For I may be precious,
But I am not based on any novel by any author whomsoever.
And so I walk through darkness,
Twixt despair and love,
Sideways. Crab walking, in darkness.
And so we come to the end, Pony.
I must leave of you now.
Don’t try and stop me, for I
Shan’t nary be stopped, nay not nary never now.
Probably nary not, anyhow.
Good-bye, Pony.
Write to me.
Forget about me.
I already have.
I already have.
I already have.
The End
