convertible

if the great spirit calls,
i will ride the wild mustang
with my hair down and her
holding me

the blue skies carrying the prairie
like a basket full of treats

the mountains waiting to lay me
down and take me for granted
their way becoming mine

the angels high atop the pin points
dangling their bare feet into the fine white snow

every devil, below
in our faults waiting for us to quake

the hoofbeats
the horse power
my thick bare legs holding
tight against her sleek body
my chest warm pressed to her black mane

i will ride her
untacked
untamed

a blaze of sunlight
across some unclaimed lands
here atop the turtle and his six brothers
swimming across the universe