Ode to Iowa
What does Iowa smell like?
I just heard some people sitting next to me at Robo Taco call it a “wasteland.”
There’s brilliant sunsets in Iowa I’m sure.
There’s obscure swimming holes in big rivers and small creeks.
People love; some probably haven’t found the love they want yet, and others madly in love as you read this.
People work hard. Laziness is present for some people at times.
There’s some shoplifter kids somewhere right now.
Probably one of the most handsome men in the world is from Iowa.
Likely many smart people.
It’s a state replete with corn. To make money with corn you gotta go big.
Don’t blame Iowa for that, blame incentives.
I should have told those gents at the taco shop, “have you ever been driving east all night and witnessed a sunrise run its fingers through a perfect sea of corn or dirt somewhere in between Iowa City and Davenport?”
I didn’t though.
This thought now a reminder to take a moment before I bark “wasteland” about Iowa or any place.
Huge thank you to my friend, Kayla, for generously allowing these photos of Iowa to accompany this poem.