Salute

We stole an artillery shell to make a saddle. We rode the horse as far as we could and then we got off and wandered off down a block with remarkably fragrant mimosa blossoms. We had a wonderful time with technical difficulties during our salute to Brooklyn on mushrooms. I remarked that I had poise under pressure and promised to be better, get better, look better and be luckier. We fattened up the horse with herbed butter sauces and laughed as it waddled under the tight fitting artillery shell. At one point you said you'd had enough and that you wouldn't be coming back. I saluted you with three Chinook helicopters that ferried the horse through a funnel of smoke. Journalists leapt to their cameras and phones. Outside was a statue of Madonna in the bushes under a crest of green mold. I took my shoes off and my watch met my eyes.