My Parent's House

One semester gone,

five months tattered

among the papers

strewn on the dorm room floor.

I want to say I'm going home

-- the home is where the heart is

-- my heart is buried in the paper

somewhere in the center of Brooklyn skies.

I feel the warmth there

in the frozen city of lights

while I slumber in the snowless

winter of these lukewarm Texas nights.

I am a quote out of context

in my parent's house...

get me back to Brooklyn,

Back to Brooklyn,

Brooklyn,

back home,

out of this house.