Here's where they stopped to rest, presumably, thiseasy-enough-to-miss depression in the low-cut grass. I liketo think they had a chance to sleep a bit, before          everything else, all the rest that followed, that they neither                   deserved nor didn't,                   the way I see it. I prefer a clean view—                            always have—unencumbered by moral valence; if given                   paper and told to draw morality, I'd draw a cloud                   of meadowlarks when all at once, as if on some cue long ago          agreed upon,they disassemble. If most people would drawa different picture—or say it can't be drawn, morality,          being abstract, as if that meant shapeless (define shape)—                   that doesn't make me wrong or miles ahead of everyone, it                   means I'm not                            someone else, a fact in which I take no little                   pride, though I try to do so humbly, which is to say, in private,                   I keep my best to myself; my worst          also. I think the truthlies elsewhere. As with sex, or the weather, or betrayal,would you rather be surprised, disturbed, bewitched,          or merely entertained, is maybe                   one way of putting it. Another:                             they were men who faltered in front of danger the way                                      most men do, who haven't had to live with it. The kind                             of men who, having ridden bareback for the first time,                             think they know what it                   feels like, to be a centaur—          the horse's body, the man's          steep chest, all hybridity                   and power, two powers                            especially, lust and intellect, a combination that has                            mostly worked, though we all make mistakes. Right? We                                      all do? I know a centaur                            when I see one. These                            were men, riding horses. Absolutely nothing mythological                   about them.