Dog bark morning, the photographed man carried off a wrist-thick scarf of horse. He knew the teacher, swindled as he was. Felt reined and loose, a thing that fits wickedly in one's lap.
The man spoke of accidents, dyed memories of false rogues banned from boats. No friends, not the kind one speaks of at the holiday table.
Horse wrist trees climbed by students in the criminal's graveyard, the hounds' playground. Punctuated by masts repurposed.