We live and work near a giant international airport,
with tons of metal flying overhead, but GPS-guided, "safe."
What deep-seated desires went into making such technology?
Surely there was some primal cause, an easy explanation for this
race-to-the-top to make this world so small.
Have I found it? Yea, there are better places --
Las Vegas, Las Cruces, Miami, Toronto, Seattle, Los Angeles,
Hoboken, Palo Alto, Cambridge, the Research Triangle.
And Amsterdam, Mexico City, Rio de Jainero, Sydney.
Yea, there are better people --
politicians, lawyers, scholars, businessmen, leaders of crime syndicates.
There is better weather --
sand, beaches, sun, ski-mountains, skin.
There is better architecture, food, drink events, attractions, and whatsoever
pain or pleasure you may seek.
And don't give me any pap about "home" being "where the heart is."
I hate my home; there are better places out there, and that's why we have the jets above.
But, let me tell you this: if this is the place where I am loved and someone loves me,
then I can think of no better place -- and nothing worth fighting for more --
than this 494 traffic jam and this 12-game Twins playoff losing streak,
or this kick-in-the-balls winter.
Home is where they know ya, and I know a couple people, and that's good enough for me.