Barbeque or crab cakes?

I’m Kathleen. I write poems, among other things. I’m from Kansas – the cool part, not the wheat fields. If you flew above Kansas and scraped through the many layers of cloud, you would see hundreds of miles of wheat fields, occasionally speckled with white windmills. You would remember the wheat fields best. They take up space.

But if at night you looked out the window over the northeastern corner, you would see a cluster of illuminated freckles below. That’s Kansas City. We have great barbeque. I wish I liked barbeque. Someone remarked last week that I must miss Kansas City barbeque, and I felt disloyal because I said, “I’m OK with crab cakes.”

Not to reinforce the Kansas stereotype. At least these are hills, not plains.