When she says, there’s no place like home,
she means this country,

humid blankets of hallucinogenic flowers,

in a world of make-believe facts
she is quite afraid of—

enough to rise up and conjure a new nation.

When the witch melts,
Dorothy loses interest in departure.

She develops a non-profit

for wayward monkeys—no more pretending.
They rip off their bellhop uniforms

help her organize a food bank—birds eggs,

yellow fruit, and chia seeds.
In his hot air contraption,

the little man will return

to the land of dollars, settle
for an endowed chair at a business college.

Not Dorothy. Not with work to do.

She counsels Glinda on universal
healthcare, adds in a fashion consult:

leather jacket with black leggings,

a pair of pink suede shoes.
The Lollypop Guild seeks her help

on forming meaningful unions—free education for all!

She builds a life out of walking curved roads
and listening to those who are nothing like her—

an immigrant’s tale, a second chance language of song.

Even the apple trees have the right to a little happiness.
Even this country she thinks of from afar.