You grew up 
	among forest covered hills, mountains. 
		Lush, 
			green in the summer,
			fiery autumnal colors. 

You learned 
	to drive on winding roads that followed the contours of the land,
			circling the hills like a spiral staircase.  

You could only see as far as the next bend in the road.

Things came upon you with no warning. 

You learned to be careful,
				wary.
Your learned to be surprised.

You learned to love surprise.
		anticipation.	
You learned to love amazement
		the mountain stream jumping over rocks 
			racing to the bottom of the hill.
		the verdant canopy of the forest
			the obscenely blue sky poking through.
	
You now live in flatland
where 

Late summer corn sways in the breeze,
		 creating a landlocked ocean of waving tassels.
and

Stay in line, the land says,
		to the corn,
			to the soybeans.

Stay in line, the land says
		to the roads,
			to the people.

Stay in line, the land says
		echoing your mother.

Stay in line, the land says, 
		don't stand out.

Stand tall, stand firm, but stay in line.

Keep the rows tidy and neat,
		there is order in straight lines
			and weedless ground.

Stay in line, you won't get lost.
		The world is chaos.
			There is certainty in straight lines.
					Safety

The shortest distance between here and there is straight line.

Stay in line, 
	                 you'll get there faster.
 
                                                                            Wherever there is.  

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