What if all the lines upon all the maps
were to disappear?
The Great Lakes might rise, spill over, and flood
Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan.
The Mississippi River might change its course
and the Gulf of Mexico dry up with one giant squelch.
California might secede, finally fall into the Pacific
and Hollywood destroy itself with too many lies.
Maybe North Carolina and Washington state musicians
will unite and New York collapse upon itself.
The Mason Dixon line will shift to the Florida Keys
the North and South forget their differences.
Midwestern states will negotiate their reconciliation
become havens to the meek and weary.
Maine might join Canada once and for all and Nebraska
will be the number one vacation destination.
The Grand Canyon will remain, as ever, the same cavity it has worked
so hard to become; the buffalo to roam the Great Plains once more.
And maybe men and women will set each
other free from trivial expectations.
The problem is: lines will always be drawn
that we may know where we stand
that we may fold maps into eternity
that we may find our way from one state of being
to another in search of a place to call home
of another to call “my love.”
But, really, what if all the lines upon
all the maps were to disappear?
We’d begin anew with the promise
of a blank page, hoping
that the lines we draw
will connect rather than divide.