Dear Idaho,

You suck.

Meaning you suck the very life from me.

Your thin, dry air is not enough to feed my hungry lungs.

The narrow minds of your population

are more slim than your precious streams.

I have no Idea why you are called the gem state

and no idea what that means

because as far as I know

your only gems are guns

and pick up trucks

and potatoes.

My Lovely Idaho,

My smile is an endangered species whenever I’m in you

and happiness begins to mean

just not being depressed.

Having friends in you means having someone

who hasn’t hurt me too badly

and isn’t that judgmental.

Dearest Idaho,

Your Governor is a joke

who is taking same sex marriage to the supreme court if he has to

but probably won’t, because he is putting all his efforts into making sure

people can carry guns on college campuses

because not being able to “violates our rights as Americans”

Beloved Idaho,

In some places your speed limit is 80 miles per hour.

That’s probably so people can get out of you faster.

I know I want to.

Sincerest Idaho,

Your politics are more red than the blood

that pours out of the bodies

of the elk, deer, moose and packs upon packs

of innocent wolves

that your citizens love to slaughter

with rifles that are considered gems

Beautiful Idaho,

I’ve hated you since I was nine

so basically since I could think for myself.  

My great Idaho,

why is it legal for people to drive

their tractors on the highway

like “I got stuck behind a tractor”

is a legitimate excuse to be late.

Oh Magnificent Idaho,

Your potatoes aren’t even that good.

And they’re the only thing you’re famous for. 

Dear Idaho,

whenever I leave you,

I get air in my lungs

and a smile on my face

and can’t wait to leave you for good.