LB tells me
from her car.
she sends me a picture of her riding
boots, and crop,
and little black
helmet.
she's in middleburg
where everyone dresses up
for the hunt.
the women look like hookers
from 5th avenue, in orange
and pinks,
frilly boas around their
necks, between their new
enhancements that hardly jiggle
when the horse gallops.
there are no wrinkles in
middleburg, but lots of therapists
working overtime.
we're not going to kill
them, she says, just chase them
around with the dogs.
drinking will be involved,
and cheese and caviar
back at the barns.
we chase them around until
the fox give up
and lie down, surrendering.
then we leave them
shivering and shaking in fear.
it's fun, you should join us
sometime.
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