Photo by Avi Theret on Unsplash
by Pat Foran
Fresh off a ghostlighting incident that left him clear-eyed and cold, the horse we rode in on didn’t seem to mind that we didn’t seem to know what we signed up for. How our signatures could revert to their childhoods and run run run. How the road ahead could really run, and how ahead and behind were a horse a piece. How we were.
“Thanks for taking us there,” we said, the ink from our signatures slow-fading like a situationship into the folds of night’s road-not-taken light.
“You’re welcome,” the horse we road in on said, suspicious and shivering and sure, sure as a question-mark gift horse on a calliope of could.
Pat Foran is a writer in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He knows and doesn’t know about love (and ghostlighting) in the open air. Find him at neutralspaces.co/patforan/, Bluesky at @pdforan.bsky.social and Twitter at @pdforan.
