High up in the air or open water? No. But dirt I’ll take. Between my teeth, under my nails, and giant black boogers in my nose. Where there’s Motor-Cross, swamp buggies and monster trucks, I’m there.

I’m full open, this sharp stone bleeds. I’m gonna catch my demon one day and pick my teeth with it’s tail.

I fell in love once with a wild horse. She beat me in a race. I had reached out to shake her hand. She took off her gloves and damn it if she didn’t have three inch nails. My heart started to sink, but when she flipped her hand over, her nails were painted in camouflage. I had to know more. I liked her all over again.

She died in child birth. Our baby was saved. A girl. I ignored her for the first three years and paid more attention to my loss. One monsoon day she wandered. I lazily searched for her, then peeked out to watch dirt melt. There she was, a sight for my sore heart, sitting under summer’s thunder. She sat splashing in a puddle, tasting earth. I joined her, my soul suddenly hungry for a mud pie.