The Five Senses
I would rather be in sunny California with my family. I have a brother who lives in Long Beach and I continue to put off seeing him year after year and now it has been at least eight years since I saw him last. He is 16 now living three blocks away from the beach and four blocks away from his school but nobody there to teach him to be a man. I would rather live in the land of milk and honey than in the realm of ice storms and other dramatic weather occurrences. I want to submerge my feet in the hot sands on my way to the cool ocean where I can spend a lazy afternoon swimming like the fishes do. I can’t imagine ever coming back to where I am now after leaving California. If I was not there then some other place as equally warm and serene. I choose Cali because my family is there and I have already missed so much of their lives because I have been so busy doing my own thing. I miss the fact that the worse weather there was El Niño and even when it did happen to rain everything would wash away momentarily. I want to go somewhere nice for once where I might feel like just another person in the mix rather than a black eyed pea.
In this place I am surrounded by all the beauty the world has to offer. Southern California offers one a bright sun and a warm climate much of the year and a diversity in culture than could hardly be considered second rate. I can remember being there once and having more friends who were Thai and Cambodian than whites but they too are there. I had friends from all nationalities and those memories have stayed with me more than any other kind of visual stimulus. With the diversity in colors of skin came the different kinds of foods. I distinctly remember there being one of those combo joints with Chinese food and a Dunkin doughnut. I can remember a place in Compton than sold fish tacos and in my mind’s eye I see a Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles place.
If I were blind the state of California would still offer me so much to listen to. I hear the loco gangster wannabees in their drop top rides riding down the streets bumping loud music and rattling their trunks. I take a walk down the boardwalk and I hear the sound of the ocean waves like background music to and orchestra of people. The ocean sounds like gentle cymbals and mighty drums all at the same time.
As a deaf mute I heard that the only place I could enjoy myself was on a beach and if I wanted to be treated well as they tend to treat people I should want to move to America, To the Hollywood hills. They say that the sun feels like a paraffin wax on the skin and the sand feels like a gentle soothing massage.
Only one sense to dare now and I can smell all the mighty fragrances of the land and the people. The Spanish mom and pop shop smells like Mexican candy and Carson Street smells like home. The scent of the women breaks up happy homes and draws men into lustful desires. At least some men who have learned to follow their nose. I can’t possibly leave out the smell of growth. Fresh cut grass and the freshly ripened
Oh I forgot about the way the mangos taste. The fruits that never make it to Missouri ripe and so they remain for those blessed with the fortune of the coast. I can taste that sweet nighttime air and I can taste the sweat of life from the hustle and bustle of the world around me. This should be the city that rarely sleeps.
I would rather be in sunny California with my family. I have a brother who lives in Long Beach and I continue to put off seeing him year after year and now it has been at least eight years since I saw him last. He is 16 now living three blocks away from the beach and four blocks away from his school but nobody there to teach him to be a man. I would rather live in the land of milk and honey than in the realm of ice storms and other dramatic weather occurrences. I want to submerge my feet in the hot sands on my way to the cool ocean where I can spend a lazy afternoon swimming like the fishes do. I can’t imagine ever coming back to where I am now after leaving California. If I was not there then some other place as equally warm and serene. I choose Cali because my family is there and I have already missed so much of their lives because I have been so busy doing my own thing. I miss the fact that the worse weather there was El Niño and even when it did happen to rain everything would wash away momentarily. I want to go somewhere nice for once where I might feel like just another person in the mix rather than a black eyed pea.
In this place I am surrounded by all the beauty the world has to offer. Southern California offers one a bright sun and a warm climate much of the year and a diversity in culture than could hardly be considered second rate. I can remember being there once and having more friends who were Thai and Cambodian than whites but they too are there. I had friends from all nationalities and those memories have stayed with me more than any other kind of visual stimulus. With the diversity in colors of skin came the different kinds of foods. I distinctly remember there being one of those combo joints with Chinese food and a Dunkin doughnut. I can remember a place in Compton than sold fish tacos and in my mind’s eye I see a Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles place.
If I were blind the state of California would still offer me so much to listen to. I hear the loco gangster wannabees in their drop top rides riding down the streets bumping loud music and rattling their trunks. I take a walk down the boardwalk and I hear the sound of the ocean waves like background music to and orchestra of people. The ocean sounds like gentle cymbals and mighty drums all at the same time.
As a deaf mute I heard that the only place I could enjoy myself was on a beach and if I wanted to be treated well as they tend to treat people I should want to move to America, To the Hollywood hills. They say that the sun feels like a paraffin wax on the skin and the sand feels like a gentle soothing massage.
Only one sense to dare now and I can smell all the mighty fragrances of the land and the people. The Spanish mom and pop shop smells like Mexican candy and Carson Street smells like home. The scent of the women breaks up happy homes and draws men into lustful desires. At least some men who have learned to follow their nose. I can’t possibly leave out the smell of growth. Fresh cut grass and the freshly ripened
Oh I forgot about the way the mangos taste. The fruits that never make it to Missouri ripe and so they remain for those blessed with the fortune of the coast. I can taste that sweet nighttime air and I can taste the sweat of life from the hustle and bustle of the world around me. This should be the city that rarely sleeps.
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