Montana will never be complete as a full state. The west side of the state has always left the map lopsided with mountains and beautiful lakes. While the east side is an overly unattractive sheet of black white paper. plain.

I grew up in kalispell. A whirlwind mixture natural with casinos talking to the trees. I was 8. Tommy was my best friend. He was a rolling fire ball full of oxygen waiting to breathe molecules dripping of rebellion.

We made this pact. Now I can't tell you the name of it. Well because I don't go back on that ****. We climbed trees with t-rex watches wanting to jump years ahead with springs for ribs that expand as our imaginations launched backflips through dusty alley ways.

We never once lost a game of cops and robbers. A grown up now. By age. I found a place. It was hidden in that tree in Montana. Lost in translation between the waves and the shores. Fallen somewhere after the suns rays and the way plants will always gravitate towards warmth.

I burrowed into my own synapses to find something more than right here right now. A place of altered reality sliced into a 7 piece pie. Slice one.

The scent of this place alone is enough to leave me undone and ready to fall.

Two. Penguins.

Three. It's an underwater cave. Hidden in your chest holding out reasons to let everything go and work right.

Four and five are somewhere dropped down a water fall trough the canopy of the napali coastline.

Six was in my legs as I ran through dusty pages of libraries full of knowledge I can't wait to learn. Drenching my veins in liquid inquiries.

And 7 is a place I call home. It ends up being wherever I am. Home with a marching band heart and quarters lost in couches.