I went into a cafe to buy a wild horse. The owner, who admitted to having 30 of them in stock, asked if I had 15 minutes to explain why I wanted one and a bit about myself. I started to talk about my history and interests and remembered that the horse was not for me but for a friend. He nodded sagely as if he had got to the truth. I then explained that I had met this woman on the street outside and she had asked me for a wild horse. It was a sufficiently unusual first line that I immediately said I would try to obtain one. But why go into a cafe?
Searching now like fury for connections and wild horse metaphors.
Several occur around dating, riding, freedom, energy, and wild women.
But, not sure. . .
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1 comment:
Wild horses have to be broken in then you might be able to get your tea made for you.
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