As a child, I used to cut apart maps of America, separate the states and put them back together in strange geographies: Kansas against Maine, fling the Dakotas as far away from each other as they could go, press New Mexico against the breast of South Carolina. I tucked tiny Rhode Island into the palm of Michigan, gave Nebraska a seaside.
I realize now the folly in these stately migrations: I never thought I’d wish I could drive across the border of Alabama into Oregon’s deep woods.
This poem and many more can be found on the author's website, http://gabrielgadfly.com. This poem was published in Ventricle, Atrium, the author's second poetry collection.