When Texas No Longer Fits in the Glove Box
by Karla K. Morton
Once you unfold a road map of Texas, your world is changed.
Towns like Falfurrias, Carthage, and Madill suddenly become
part of your life and once you see them, you canâ€™t go back to
not knowing them. You have to go there, even it itâ€™s just
with your eyesâ€”or your fingerâ€”tracing those
crowâ€™s feet county roads into unexplored territory.
Thatâ€™s how knowledge works. Thatâ€™s how knowing works.
Life is expanded; thereâ€™s no going back.
Thereâ€™s no refolding the map.
Itâ€™s like meeting an alarmingly charming manâ€”
discovering his dangerous detours and thrilling new paths,
finding unforeseen forks and magnificent natural beauty.
Youâ€™ll look up at him and know that the crinkly arch between his eyes
goes from Childress up to Amarillo, then back down to Muleshoe;
that the whites of his nails reach from Huntsville to Jasper;
that his green eyes encompass the metroplexâ€”
From Ft. Worth to Denton to Dallas.
And you canâ€™t help but imagine that the crooked hairline
beneath his navel would run all the way down Highway 281,
and across the border, into dark, exotic Mexico;
or that his lips could take you on incredible road-trips
stretching clear across the stateâ€”from El Paso to Nacogdoches
with just a smile;
or that the best kiss of your life
would whisk you through the wild-flowered Hill Country,
and leave you weak-kneed and breathless
along the Riverwalk in old San Antone.