What I never talk about

My cousin on a horse chased me through the bush back of his farm. I hadn't yet discovered that there is no nature outside us, only that inside. Instead I discovered panic. Didn't help that my cousin was laughing.

Words might describe the moment now, but no words passed between us at the time. We ate flapper pie either before or after. I took 35 cents off grandpa at Thirty-one.

Perhaps certain details have become transposed over time, turning me into the one on the horse, but I don't think so. (Either way, we're never neutral.)

Once in a while I'll offer food to some horse, which usually takes it. But first I extract a promise from the horse that it won't chase me.