RIDERS
The riders were coming with their blood and their
glory, to fight this modern age - cowboy swansuits,
tiding with chaps, spitting tobacco while chewing a match.
I looked up from my perch (I'd just become a bird, in this
different life) to see where it was I was. It was all new to
me, and just becoming. As a bird, it wasn't so bad. A
cannon blast ruined the sky, as I realized, already, those
guys would kill me with their percussion.
Another feeble life, destroyed in a wartime grimace.
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