He walks around the paddock, his head raised high, his eyes pointing, his head recalling, the posture of the filly, is she walking all right, he doesn’t want to alarm the animal, he appears not to notice, it has to be natural, throws a a sly look, was that a limp, maybe she has a back problem, watching, how we carry ourselves. Wake up Sean, you are doing it again, what he says, his attention back in the moment. What Dear he says. She has a snarl in her eye, I saw you looking at her. They are outside a restaurant. You never gave me that attention, the thought she keeps inside her. She is getting older, not that she is old. WE all love to be noticed, when we are in the prime of our lives. We all want to be noticed, we want to be of interest in the street.
She leaves her house, her trolley before her, she can’t carry weight on her shoulders, her blonde tresses are turning to grey, her walk is not as smart, age, tiredness, a lot of emotional stuff inside. She lights up when she catches the eye of a passer by, they used to gaze at her, when she was young, memories.
Solomon sighed, how we look at each other. There were many well dressed young women and men, strutting themselves. How would a horse trainer
size them up. He heard the words before, hips do this, legs do that, it wasn’t sexual as the moral brigade tried to impress on us, it was just our nature, we all watch, and wonder, life is a gift. Beepers, imagine what it’s like, you are a race horse, you know you have the ability, in the right hands, the potential will show, patience required. How talent flourishes in the right hands. Jesus only had to wish it sometimes and people recovered, sometimes it was touch. Look in the eyes, are you well, doesn’t every mother know that, and they all didn’t have PhD’s in psychology.
Those who fed fear into the world, he hoped they had celestial insurance, amen.