Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Americana Barrooms

Of course I remember California,
I remember New
Orleans,
I recall the sights, the
sounds, the barroom smells
from all those cities
I've never been.
I remember Highway 61
tarmacadam, its blazing
touch in midday heat,
and I cannot forget the
feel of being
exiled on Main Street,
and I recall the sunrise
over New England
whaling bays,
and looking on as Alcatraz
appeared to me like
ghost of Marley through
S.F. haze,
and Woodstock posters from '69,
leading me on my way there,
and crying over Vietnam,
cryin' it ain't fair,
and I know I'm not American, or anything,
but I want to be
sometimes,
just so I could say I lived
in New Orleans, or California,
and have those memories
be mine.

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