First I thought I wanted you on the back of my horse.  Fraternal twin pistols aimed high.  PeW-PeW.  Steady.  Trust the cowboy.  PeW-PeW.  Watch the smoke roll out of the barrel like steam off a fresh pot of coffee.  Let me feel your weight against my back.  Yell something with attitude that gives the birds turbulence.  They can’t stop the two of us on a stallion named Mojo.

The longer I look at you, the more I know that this doesn’t have to be the case.  You’re no sharp-shooting damsel.  You’re as much outlaw as I ever wanted to be.  You don’t fit the bill for a backseat driver.  

Tie those boots tight and shoot me one of those hurricane glances.  Grab the reins and speak a language of courage to your stallion.  Fling mud toward the sun and howl.  Race me across the high desert toward the horizon.  Name your horse something in Spanish (Lorétta).  Aim one of those pistols in the direction of freedom.  

My horse is the color of mud with exhaust pipe nostrils.  Don’t look back, you’re not going to lose us.  Gallop side by side and challenge me for the juice.  From my angle, the moon is rising out of your head again.  The setting sun is playing music across the galaxy and your silhouette only adds to the color pallet.  

Take a deep breath and shake out the noise in your head.  Read the terrain like your favorite book and whistle when the bats fly overhead.  I like the way the Juniper trees reach for you as you pass.  They recognize those untamable eyes.  I wonder if they feel the same winds I feel when you’re around.  

Warm your hands on the neck of your horse.  More beauty than beast, but more beast than anything on four legs.  Let that big heart knock ferociously.  Horses recognize the smell of pure hearts.  Chose your direction and let it chose you.  Keep that rock in your pocket.  Keep the six-shooter on your hip.  

If you need a spliff, I’ve got a lighter.  If you need adventure, remember who’s holding the reigns.  Permission is yours to give.  Throttle it out and find a place that feels like home tonight.  Set up camp and we’ll summon fire.  Spend the night under the moon.  Telling old stories.  Making new ones.  Battle me with bullshit and wit and keep my lips warm until dawn.  

Let the shooting stars ease you to sleep.  Dream of new ways to live unconditional love.  Laugh the universe into the shape of a crescent moon.  Believe in the stones and the canyons and beauty between you and the gods. Know that they lean in when you speak.  Their toes tingle when you walk.  Your eye contact inspires them to create new worlds.  

On the back of that horse, with those wild eyes looking out over everything, the universe is yours.  Lead with the heart and share that smile generously.  The darkness can’t hold you.  The stones in your pocket are working with you.  So are the stars, and the moon.  The sun already lives in your skin.  

Universal attractant.  Fire woman, throwing shadows through the woods.  The trees appreciate your scent.  Keep your words poignant and let them crescendo through thin air.  Climb the branches, press the soles of the feet into the mud.  Catch rain with your arms stretched long.  

If you ever need callouses to read like road maps, I have a set of hands you can borrow.  My chaos trusts your peace, implicitly, for balance, for brilliance.  I believe in freedom as much as I believe in the moon.  And I happen to like the way a howl tastes on your breath.  Continue teaching that nasty, gorgeous, accidental-elegance with every step.  Give time to silence.  I want to learn unconditional with you.  Hone the instincts.  Keep the blade sharp and the pistols loaded.  Ride these horses until we become stones again.