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Larry loved his wine, he was last seen in the vineyard. We fought, often, or circled each other like tigers over meat.

Sober, he was a son of a bitch and drunk, he was even worse. Still you stand there and you say I don’t seem moved. 

But the horses know. There is God in a horse’s eye. You say that I seem cold but the horses know who I am. 

I dreamed of them a thousand strong and trampling, pounding until he was broken. 

I could see it clear as sugar water coursing through his veins. Jaws locked and fingers frozen in the air

I could see it flowing like a river in a cave, the horses splashed and danced and it formed crystals in his brain

He was a bastard, drunk or sober, Larry only loved his wine. You will say I only love the horses. 

They know who I am and they know what’s in the vineyard; you say that I am cold but God is there in a horse’s eye.

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