Poetry

Pale Horse – Robert McManes

I don’t recall exactly
when I first realized
Death doesn’t ride a pale horse,
but I’m pretty positive
this revelation came after
the new millennium.

Horses just aren’t “in” anymore,
not in the twenty-first century.
Something so infinite grand
needs a modern ride. One
with flash and pizzazz.

Last night I had a dream;
Death rides a shiny Harley
cherry red, American made
chrome pipes all aglow.
When it’s my time
I want to ride in style.
Screw the pale horse.

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