Sunday, October 19, 2008

Thinkin' 'bout home

I don't want anybody to get the idea that I'm coming home yet. I can't leave here until I feel it's all been worth it. That'll be a while yet. But having had a long break with nothing to do but think, I DID get to thinkin' on home. And while a fella can wax poetic from time to time, for me I usually end up soundin' like a country music song without the music. Leastaways that's how it turned out on this here occasion. But, tarnation if I done didn't end up writin' down just zactly how I was feelin'! Gives a body peace o' mind to do that.

Goin’ Home

I’m goin’ home
where the guy beside me on the bus won’t fart n’
I can open any friggin’ egg carton.
Where if I want a coloured car I don’t need to paint one.
Where I’m just treated like a foreigner but I ain’t one.
Where a lot of boobs ain’t fake, where bread isn’t cake,
and where a steak is a steak is a steak!

I’m goin’ home
where they have Swiss Chalet not Mexicana.
Where Safeway and Super Valu give a single man a
chance to buy just one tomato, cucumber or banana.
Where goin’ out ain’t a promise or an oath.
Where Saturday I can shake, Sunday I can bake,
and any day of the week I can do both!

I’m goin’ home
where usually it’s only children who are whiney.
Where they make pants big enough for my heiney.
Where NOBODY eats rice at every single meal.
Where superheroes ain’t real, where I don’t hide what I feel,
and I don’t have to bend over to take a shower, chop veggies, kiss a girl, do the dishes, look in the mirror, walk through a doorway, sweep the floor or make a business deal.

I’m goin’ home
where a guy without much hair can get it cut.
Where folks don’t barge on through a door that’s shut.
Where traffic laws are more than just suggestions.
Where education ain’t an unfulfilled obsession.
Where pronunciation perfection ain’t this week’s textbook section,
and where consequently people make better use of an "erection".

I’m goin’ home
where cheatin' is still cheatin' if you ain’t caught.
Where jobs and diplomas aren’t bought.
Where patriotism isn’t thrust upon us,
national pride is personal, quiet and honest.
Where taxi drivers, phone operators, store clerks, customer service, food servers and deliverers, bosses, administrators, translators, and total strangers, I can talk to them!
Where home ain’t somewhere I’m goin’, it’s where I am.

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