Americana Barrooms

Of course I remember California,

I remember New

Orleans,

I recall the sights, the

sounds, the barroom smells

from all those cities

I've never been.

I remember Highway 61

tarmacadam, its blazing

touch in midday heat,

and I cannot forget the

feel of being

exiled on Main Street,

and I recall the sunrise

over New England

whaling bays,

and looking on as Alcatraz

appeared to me like

ghost of Marley through

S.F. haze,

and Woodstock posters from '69,

leading me on my way there,

and crying over Vietnam,

cryin' it ain't fair,

and I know I'm not American, or anything,

but I want to be

sometimes,

just so I could say I lived

in New Orleans, or California,

and have those memories

be mine.