People of the Tongue

You're walkin the street in the afternoon heat, lookin in a storefront window.
You see the TVs with their life-sized screens bringin you visions of wind and snow.
You wanna run away where pretty people play, but your Mama says no.
You gotta stay here where your destiny's clear: You were born and you'll die in Fresno.

"My Daddy goes wild. I'm just a child. "Mama stays locked in her room.
"Daddy, don't beat me. That's no way to treat me. I'll be gone soon."

Twenty years gone, you're mowin lawns. Got a landscapin business.
At night you write about your life in flight, sufferin high altitude dizziness.

"Imagination runs wild. I'm a lost dreamchild,
"Lookin for the People of the Tongue.
"My pen's a beacon. I will seek 'em at the top of my lungs."

"Hello out there! Can you hear me?"

Thirty years on, you still don't belong, no matter where your hat is hung.
But still you look in the Univeral Book for the long lost People of the Tongue.

"Imagination runs wild. I'm a lost dreamchild,
"Lookin for the People of the Tongue.
"My pen's a beacon. I will seek 'em as long as my song is sung."

"Hello out there! Can you hear me?"

Copyright 2007 NADJA MUSIC Reinaldo GarcĂ­a
Lyrics: July 26-27, 2006 Music: July 29-30, 2006
Monterey, CA

People of the Tongue

Anne Sexton, Poet
1966

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