Comin' to 'Merica

Coming to ‘Merica

To tell you the truth was not easy
It started way back
Way back when
When I was a little girl
Way back when I was only
Just 9 or was it 10?
My father traveled
Traveled to the big country
The country I came to learn as
Land of the liberated
I remember how he
Used to send the barrels of clothes
Clothes that when we walked
Walked the street
People would say
‘dem’s American clothes’
And I would strut head up
Like a high falutin Ostrich
I remember reading  books
 ---books ‘bout ‘merica
With pictures showing streets
Bigger than my little gravel roads
And to me
The streets looked like
Gold
But you know what?
Let me back track
To tell you the truth
It started way before I was 9 or 10
It really started when I was 5 or 6
And first saw television through our landlord’s
Window with people dress in 3-piece suit
People in ‘merica
That land of the Liberated
Every night I watched
Days of Our Lives
Through the landlord’s
Window
With evening clothes on
Smelling strong of lifebuoy soap
Watching the Bright-eyed one
Through the landlord’s window
With two big eyes curious
Knowing I was coming
Coming to America

Taken from unpublished work titled "Muse Melodies"