There’s a way the people in Texas live, the wealthy ones,
who take in each day with all its complicated successes, and commodities,
          and general well-being.
It’s like they’re the mountains of Texas.
And they’re just waiting for us to figure that out.
A mountain range of distinguished lineage.
With individual privacy screens, because a mountain can need to feel at least
          a little bit special.
What would happen if a mountain grew envious?

The hill country in Texas was burning down when I left it.
The ocean around Texas was on fire the last summer I lived there.
It was because I was falling in love for so long. That’s what happens when
          you feel like you’re special.
At least that.

Like learning long form division as a child,
or living through your parents’ complicated divorce,
and you want them to love you, but it seems like they’re not supposed to
          love anything more than themselves.
You learn that love feels like fire.

And living inside it isn’t so bad.
I’m an American. I attach meanings to every one of my successes.
And these days it’s the mountains I moved to in the middle of the country.
Earth mountain. Hinged mountain. Mountains that don’t let the wealthy
          come anywhere near.
These mountains have their own people. Oh, voluminous and territorial