Bo Bo

Inspired by my childhood growing up on a horse farm.

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In loving memory of my childhood horse, Bo Bo.  You will never be forgotten. 

Teeth yellow from smoke, as gums draw blood from a lack of brushing. Saliva stretches from jaw to jaw like cob webs banding together from tackle box to old saddles in a dust filled horse barn.  Spit flies from an athlete's mouth like hay particles shattering into a cloud of haze, as the watchman heaves bails by one knee into puzzle pieces... hand by hand, gloves to orange twine.  Stack after stack he works like art... as the horses watch with hunger.  Hunger from the weightlifter's eyes fill with blood veins that cast upon the white glossy outlook of bright lights glaring back in a mist of hands that clap like whips to the back of a horse. The indoor arena the horse circles, makes the crack of the whip extra loud, as the echo of the athlete's yell has now turned into a scream for all to hear.  One persons head drops from the back of the room from understanding, as shade can comfort such emotions... good and bad. The loud nay from the horse moves through the barn like a base jumper passes mountains and trees, as the horse turns gracefully, each front knee raises high and mighty, confident and powerful, loud and in your face......the barn becomes alive with cheer, as the horse performs its masterful craft. 

Dust kicks up as hooves trot violently... a spray that only a slalom skier could duplicate from a cut through crisp morning air, on a glass sheet of reflection like eyes they stare.  Gripping the handle not to fall, the skier leans like a knife cutting through the wake like a weightlifter creating a massive earthquake.  Crack! The place goes wild, the horse nods his head as his perfectly combed mane swings like hands that raise in victory.  Sweat that tells a story makes the athlete's journey more humbling, as the sweat makes the black horse glossy like a ghost in the old barn of dust and webs.  The smell of the barn like gas at the station, manure and the leather saddles makes the barn rich in smells.  Eyes water from the weightlifter's eyes from the pride that bottles his throat, an achievement of life makes a tear splash against the wood, as the fruit of his labor tastes salty and good.  Eyes water from the smell of the barn, as both sides of the breezeway open and long.  Wind passes through like young horses live and die only to give birth to new.  Old wheel barrels tell stories of hard work and purpose... as the weightlifter's ripped shoes stand perched on a podium of high... overlooking the mountain he just climbed.  The soul of the barn speaks to you when you open each stall.  The horse nods with understanding and excitement... for it's time to roam the outdoor pastures with other friends to run with... open world with open wind, away from the barn the horses live.  The weightlifter pops champagne celebrating being a champion in a sport where so many die.  Open path to more success the gold medal speaks into the ear of the beholder... as this gold medal brings a reluctant sigh to the athlete's state of peace.  The horse runs fast for training it's not, his technique is all over and wild for this can't be taught.  Freedom and happiness is something that lies within.  This barn and this gym are the same, for both have stories and souls from the decades they have withheld and always will withhold.  This is a story about a barn and a gym, a weightlifter and a horse... both athletes, both freaks to some... both with much to overcome. 

The horse takes a deep breath as the weightlifter breaths out.  The horse's knees wrapped for the cold, as the weightlifter's calves stay wrapped from pain.  Both will sleep will blankets tonight, as rain makes a beating sound from the roof they sleep under.  Both tired from a day of activity, both dreaming about the next, for a new day will soon arrive as the sun rises high.  The barn will smell like leather and the gym will creak with water leaks.  Both the horse and the weightlifter are athletes... both are at peace. 

BO BO 2016