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Kansas is the 34th state to enter the Union.
Violent bed.
She slowly opens her eyes releasing technicolor fluttering ties to emerald Oz.
Her eyes draw to the new crater dividing the dry, black, white, gray wheat fields.
Her Kansas has flown away on the ripping, tornado winds along with her farmhouse.
Kansas was the first state to fly off its map letting boundary line tendrils dangle off its edges.
Going like the faded footsteps of the Kansas natives, the people of the south wind.
She no longer hears their ancient, breathy calling, “Dorothy! Dorothy!”
She returns with loving, grasping, grounding thoughts of home to a gaping, massive hole.
Tricked into motion by the shadow and light play on the walls of her cavern.
Homeless, landless, rootless.
She tumbleweeds Nebraska bound.