salt dries on the skin after morning swims
my hair is long again, and i feel beautiful once more-
the men stare as i walk through the streets because they can't quite decide if i am american or not,
they have thoughts of me being european in their minds.
lovely porcelain european girl.
the women snarl as their men's eyes follow me down those alleys
and its the romance and the freedom that i've longed for
their voices and language that i've craved
and it only takes money to get there
money that i've rather spend on booze for now, to drown worthless sorrow
and i laugh at myself crying about how trapped i feel
as i take another sip of sierra nevada.
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