country through country

by this guy we know named James

1.
there was nothing sylvania about it till the West
and even then I knew better.
the mountains, hills, were like something from dutch wonderland,
and every half-mile there was a waterslide
instead of a waterfall. but the green was convincing, was green the
way I see green and know it,
more so against the resort palette.

and before this all I remember is a desert, knowing full well
there are no deserts in Pennsylvania.

2.
Ohio is unconvincing.
People start to stop looking right, though they seem satisfied
with the state they’re in, and everything has slowed
down even
when the traffic speeds up.
but this is bloodless driving of the bloodless;
they should paint the roads brown for that ever elusive sensation
of unity.

3.
and I never thought I’d long for Ohio
but then I’d never been to Indiana,
where I learned that the smoking of a cigarette
takes place in the space where your eyes can focus
and where they can’t.

4.
there were undulations in the road, and an underwhelming
arch over the highway, and trees had returned.
I never stopped, and so don’t know if the people of Illinois
resemble the trees.

5.
Kansas was not what I expected
and I wasn’t expecting much. but it’s actually better
than that, in a flat and monotone way,
and it was in Kansas that the roadside entertainment really began.
who does not want to see the world’s largest prarie dog,
crudely silhouetted against the kind earth and distant sky,
much bigger than the sun,
ready to crumble Tokyo in a display of wanton malice,
and frustration at the world’s failure to conform to its
gargantuan proportions?

Domestic Tranquility Base
country through country