ON YOUR HIGH HORSE

See his image at any Mobil station,

Pegasus, a horse of a different color,

Mauve I think, some shade of purple, hard

To see by moonlight, heading toward the stars,

A flight of fancy, bareback, clutching

His withers. Funny, when you come down,

You write one of the great poems of the language,

Or, more likely, drop a fistful of horsefeathers.