a place i head back to
that i’ll never belong to again
it’s growing, probably too fast for most my family accepts,
if not love what i am the streets are always the same
summer heat makes crepe myrtle trees wilt
and gumbo tastes good with beer on a hot night
i look on the parade ground for the person i used to be
i wonder about her sometimes
funny, i don’t the advice i gave to my mother to simply let go
i see my barber though we know i don’t need him anymore
the streets are still the same
but not me

Erren Geraud Kelly

i wrote it after listening to your cd…i picked it up at j and r music in nyc