I trace the highway on your back that links mole to mole, all laid out like a tour of Americana. There are my favorite stops along the way, America's most recognizable state,Texas, sits on your lower back, the heel near your lumbar spine, the boot kicking you in the ribs. The national bird of Alabama, the woodpecker, is drilling your spine with its sharp beak, and the Statue of Liberty holds her flame up high on your neck, threatening to catch your hair on fire. The Great Lakes sit on your upper back, and on your tailbone is a cat's tail, gently curling out into The Atlantic on Cape Cod. I watch them carefully, are they getting bigger? Are they turning color? The one on your shoulder blade winks at me, sending morse code, dots and dashes, telling me, all is well, all is well.