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Tank flap…

May 2, 2012

Horses are herbivores…

They roam in herds,

grazing for more than twelve hours a day (fifteen to twenty hours if food is scarce),

and drinking when thirsty…

If confronted with a strange noise, smell, or sight,

the herd thunders away at great speed…

When cornered,

horses fight using their teeth and hooves…

“Fight or flight” is still the horse’s principle means of defense from danger;

therefore,

excitement,

nervousness,

confusion,

and fear can result in a horse acting defensively or trying to run from perceived threats…

— in Professional Care of the Racehorse by T.A. Landers…

If you know,

from personal experience,

what it’s like,

to be kept awake,

at night,

by the roar,

of water,

endlessly filling,

the bowl,

of your toilet,

due to the disintegration,

of the washer,

at the source,

then you’ve slept a night,

in my shoes…

And until,

the fixer-man,

in the coveralls,

shows up,

at your door,

the only solution,

to the problem,

is shut-off,

at the main…

Sometime,

before the quarter-finals,

slid,

down the drain,

for my team,

I wondered how,

to get all the noise,

about two goalies,

to stop,

and I prayed,

for an answer,

as I measured out,

cooked oats,

for an evening feed…

And I got,

what I wished for…

Kevin Bieksa,

has been quoted as saying,

something like,

I don’t know what,

I’m going to do,

tomorrow,

after the team bus,

slid to a halt,

in overtime…

In my book,

when all else fails,

and I don’t know,

what to do,

with myself,

I take a nap,

and I enjoy,

every single,

second of it…

With Spring,

just beginning,

and Summer,

up in the headlights,

I’d string up,

a hammock,

somewhere secret,

and stare up,

at the sky,

until the cows,

come home…

Within moments of,

the ramifications,

of Stoll’s shot,

sinking in,

Little Gem wrapped,

herself up,

in our story blanket,

and said,

Oh well,

now we’ll have lots of time,

to watch cooking shows,

and do all of the things,

we didn’t have time for,

last year…

Some people claim,

they don’t know how,

to nap…

I feel sorry,

for them,

and suggest they watch rabbits,

and horses,

for a little how-to,

on that afternoon,

delight…

When I make plans,

to roll over,

Jason Botchford’s baby toes,

with my Volvo,

while dining on,

spaghettini,

with mussels,

and clams,

in a white wine sauce,

Little Gem,

and Starshine say,

things like,

You can’t get violent,

with people,

just because,

they’ve got,

nothing better,

to do,

with their skill set…

That may very well,

be true…

So instead,

of kicking,

rumour mongers,

with my boots,

I’m directing energy,

at long distance calls,

to my friend Roberto,

about how,

to connect his right fist,

to the inside,

of his left elbow,

as he swings,

a classic Italian gesture,

in the general direction,

of Vancouver,

while walking south,

to wherever he wants,

for a new song

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