New Jersey, where it’s not too hot
and Gramma’s spaghetti always hits the spot.
I wanna’ go home, now you know that I been missin’ it.
I can’t get back; I’m lost like Odysseus.
Where I’m at is cool; it’s not that I hate it;
it’s just complicated.
I love Cali, but it’s over-rated;
I could spend a whole day out in the sunshine,
but I miss orange leaves on the trees sometimes.
I miss rainy days;
I miss light flurries;
I miss 7-11 runs and blueberry Slurpees.
It’s not Georgia that I got on my mind;
it’s my home, New Jersey, that I think about all the time.
I wanna’ be rollin’, kickin’ it with my homies,
going to Italian restaurants, eatin’ macaronis.
Without the food, a little piece of my heart is gone,
’til the day I can say I had good chicken parmesan.
I love my home ’cause
to get back buh-bak-bu-back to ma familia.
‘Cause when I’m home
they be buggin’ and sh*t;
we be huggin’ and sh*t;
just be lovin’ the sh*t.
A smile on everybody’s faces,
my little cousin actin’ up
so you know I gotta’ chase him!
Just hangin’ in the park, kickin’ it
with the old folks;
when it comes to playin’ chess, geriatrics
are no joke.
I go by the beach to catch the scent in the air.
I love how they talk; my accent is there.
I miss you house on Atlantic Avenue;
it sucks, ’cause I won’t
be comin’ back to you.
And you know Mike’s Subs are like heaven on a bun.
I can finally hit AC, now that I’m 21.
I be missin’ days, cruisin’ on the Parkway;
long trips to wherever,
playin’ stupid car games.
Philly to the left,
beaches to the right,
travel up to New York, where we party all night.
It’s been a little too long since we
lived in that happy home.
I need some crazy Jersey ladies
with big hair and tacky clothes.
So when life is stressful and I’m all worried,
I take time in my mind to
go back to Jersey.
[© Gabriel G. Scheller 11/05, Wheaton, IL; photo: Manasquan, NJ 2007]