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

th-that’s familiar,

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]