When Texas No Longer Fits in the Glove Box

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 can’t go back to
not knowing them. You have to go there, even it it’s just
with your eyes—or your finger—tracing those
crow’s feet county roads into unexplored territory.
That’s how knowledge works. That’s how knowing works.
Life is expanded; there’s no going back.
There’s no refolding the map.
It’s like meeting an alarmingly charming man—
discovering his dangerous detours and thrilling new paths,
finding unforeseen forks and magnificent natural beauty.
You’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 metroplex—
From Ft. Worth to Denton to Dallas.
And you can’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 state—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.

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