Ruby red slippers, rich with passionate love for you, dear state, as I search your land, grazing the colors, the life, and the mystery of weeds choking gravestones, tangling the dead. But you, dear state, yourself is so gentle.
Kansas, you stretch to ****** my curls; to stroke my tender cheek with a flock of sunflowers, blooming vivid gold and a mizzle of musicality, too high, too loud for me.
Your screams of country overwhelm me. Why you, dear state, never treat us to tangles of concrete nor mazes of glass?