Dirt Me

I don't want to walk, I want to run.

I am amidst a craze phase for you.

Houses are quant,

but dirt in the wind washing my hair is where I am at.

Take me to the field and kiss me there,

I don't want warm and cozy, but cold and shivering.

I want to taste the goosebumps of your lips

and rub your skin with dirt in my hands.

Let me throw my head up to a sky of clouds

and sink your body into the mud of this earth.

I want to have sex in hiking boots and flannel.

(Well, you won't be in flannel long)

Just take me away from the sun

and let me run to you.

No more walking or waiting or idly idling.

Take me to the field and carve our path out.

Let's make this life in all its muck

and make out for a bit

and take the tears with the good.

Come out to this field with me,

we can traipse and traffic

bump into each other

and never come out.

Houses and streets are nice

but not with you.

I want fields and dirt with you.

Let's wander.

Photo by Julia Kruy.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell