If I were to visit the Ivy League, I would wonder how fast ivy would burn. Let’s say I had a match.
On the Mississippi, I would take out a little notebook and remind myself: 4 Ss, 2 Ps, 1 M.
California is spelled with brown letters. That distinguishes it from the jungle, which is blue-green.
When I traveled through Oregon, I forgot what it was like to be in love with anything but Oregon.
Kansas is abstract. My mind wanders and sprints through states and ends up on the other side.
I have been called a liar often, but only once for saying that broccoli in New Hampshire was blue.
But broccoli in New Hampshire IS blue.
The other side, over there.
In the Grand Canyon, I would leave my jeep and sigh and I would say: This is grand.