poem for home

America. America it is you that i think of, it is your lips that i long to kiss and your song that i want to sing along with. take the high harmony on the chorus, play a harmonica solo before the bridge, shake myself wonderfully to you. Tomorrow i fly out to see you, because you won’t fly in to red bank to see me, but it is cool. i’ll wear a tight little yellow t-shirt and my momma’s shades and i will crack all the jokes i got about the weather or politics or candy and cookies and stuff. america, i leave you all the time, but i always come back, when others tell me not too, but i never fully commit when others tell me to marry you. we got a strange thing you and i, but that is alright because at the end of the day, it is you that i lay with, you that i think about. you run deep inside me, me a collection of lonely molecules bound together by the magnetism of a soul. america i celebrate you and i sort of love you
see you tomorrow