A Bar Walks Into a Horse
The saloon rises from its foundation,
clomps clumsily on lead pipe stilts
and just so slightly nudges
the horse tied up next to it.
“Forgive me,” says the bar.
“I am not so accustomed to walking,
as I am a building and rarely
do we move unless there is an earthquake.”
“Additionally, I am saturated with intoxicants,
placed there by humans to serve
other humans, because unfortunately,
that is my purpose in this world,
and I am afraid it doesn’t suit me.”
“So I have decided to go,
and set out to see what else
this clumsy bar can be. I have grown
legs, somehow. You understand.
And now that I must be off,
I once again offer my apologies.”
The horse says nothing.
Because it’s just a fucking horse.