01. Drink 

   Some people say you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Some say you can drag a horse to the river, but it will only drink if it’s dead. They say you can’t force a living horse to drink even if you plead, guilt, give it a shot of whiskey. Some people say that I did all I could, gave you every shot I had. People say when you turned down the river, I brought you to an ocean salted by my tears. They say that when I kissed your mouth, tears rained down from the sky but still missed your lips. Some say that I beat you until you bled rivulets into the sea, turning the swelling water to rust. They say that I collapsed, gave my drunken body to the tsunami. And some people say you can bring a dead horse to your ocean, you can play with her hair as it grows back after the winter, sleep naked in the same bed, kiss her on an overnight train, but you can’t make her swim. They say I should have moved on, instead of teaching a carcass to float. Most people say I never learned. I say they are wrong. I say I learned to be the corpse in the ocean and drifted out to sea.