Heartland! The state bird is a cardinal—the state
flower, a scarlet carnation. Limestone is the mineral
most mined. I want my caricature drawn on graph
paper, all swashbuckling stance and wide, open grin.
When the day is done, I want to wade out to Lake
Erie’s edge, clad in seersucker and a madras hat
with grosgrain ribbon wound through the brim.
I want to buy a funnel cake and an elephant ear.
I want to pound down the sound—deafening—
of the sole, hooting loon. I dream of Cedar Point,
the spectacle of spinning Ferris Wheels, high-speed
coasters—the Raptor, the Gemini, the Demon Drop—
and cotton candy the size of a calm, truant moon.