In Costa Rica, he cajoled me to try ziplining
omitting the part where we must trail ride a horse
across a swift stream and up the mountain to reach
the platforms high above the green tree canopies. 

Did I tell you I had never ridden a horse before
or feared heights? He knew. I summoned
courage from my vault and succeeded sort of.
At platform one, the guide had to body slam me
to avoid ramming the tree and the people on it.
My hand breaks on the cable failed, an intervention
occurred on the platform as he took photos. 

On the way down, my mare was starving
cruising down the mountain to her hay
as I held on out of control. At her destination
the stable guide offered to help but only held
her reins as I toppled on my back. The rest
arrived peering down at me on that forest floor
from their mighty steeds as if to say, What are
you doing down there?   Taking a nap! 

Next day was spa day. My element yay.
He was a novice and tried to convince
someone to rock climb instead. There
were no takers. He succumbed.
Afterwards, whispering in my ear,
“How low do they go?”
Guess who got the last laugh?