Hobby Horse
Not like the winged stallion of Greek fame
with Olympic wings aloft from sky to sky.
Here, at our green graffiti’d gates, you’ll spy
an equine likeness on a stick, whose mane
is spun of extruded crude, and her name
just might be Karen. From her button eyes
shines nothing, and her well-stuffed cheeks belie
the hollowness over which she reigns.
Screw elder ways, your sense of self, cries she
with silent snout. Give me your grifters, your gore,
your fighting-age men yearning for a spree,
proprietors for my convenience stores.
Send these, in funded caravans, to me,
and ride me like a cowboy through the door!
A.R. Pereira is an American poet. His work has appeared, or is forthcoming, with Antelope Hill, Corncrake Magazine, Apocalypse Confidential, Gopnik Press, Hawkeye, and Ape House. He can be found on both Substack and X @YeomanPoet.
A.R., thank you for penning this. The hobby horse is a brilliant representation of suburban progressives – affluent (well-stuffed cheeks), empty, and untrue (button eyes and polyester mane).