My name is Ryder ~ that August day in Hell's Kitchen, I fainted, I worked hard, now my handlers rep is tainted, I was a carriage horse, my hooves clip-clopped the course, the city was a silver concrete master, confined in harness as I labored into disaster. My eyes were amber, my coat chestnut brown, My handlers knew I was an older horse on the streets of downtown, other horses still plodding in this damn arrangement, have no sweet timothy under their hooves, only pavement. I would sorely amble into my stall, as my fellow horses nickered to me they wearied of it all, we in the animal kingd