Has anyone ever rode a shooting star?
Because I’d like to.
How about cowabunga off the edge
of a waterfall?
Assuming it’s not too high of course.
Have you ever danced on the flat roof
of a random building
by a river
at sunset
with someone handsome?
Me neither.
And if you’ve ever chased a horse
while furiously riding another horse
through fields and fields of swaying grass
over creaky wooden fences
and between scattered apple trees,
consider me jealous.
So the next time you hang from
the ladder of a helicopter,
the wind battling your face
and whipping your hair,
the next time you have a deeply intellectual
conversation in a quaint little coffee shop
with someone who calls you kiddo,
the next time you get the chance
to straddle a shooting star?
Take me with you.