i once knew a man who had wild horses killed.
when he told about it 
the words came galloping out of his mouth
and shook themselves and headed off in 
every damn direction. his tongue
was wild and wide and spinning when he talked
and the people he looked at closed their eyes
and tore the skins off their backs as they walked away
and stopped eating meat.
there was no holding him once he got started;
he had had wild horses killed one time and 
they rode him to his grave.