The Difference Between Paris And A Large Number 7
You know what I realized today?
I’m just too damn American.
I like super-sized meals with 62 oz. sodas
and I really enjoy eating it all
while I watch bad
And I think Paris looks pretentious
with people that are somehow proud
of the uninspired architecture
and of all the god-awful
I’ve read that many people get depressed
when they visit a foreign place
and it doesn’t live up to
the fairy tale
And that’s why I like America, too.
Because people come here and think,
Man, that wasn’t as bad as I thought
it would be.
We are trained from the start to be this way
to have some hidden pride
about where our parents
And I’ve trained myself out of it
by paying very close attention
to the way we eat at
but if I had to choose an Iowan cornfield
or the cold beaches of Lake Michigan
or even the ninth ward of New Orleans
it wouldn’t take long.
I have grease running through my veins at all times
consuming super-sized meals and giving myself
Maybe that’s causing the nausea I feel whenever
I hear people romanticize some foreign place
they’ve never even been to:
No matter where you go
and no matter how fast you run
you’ll never escape where you were
and who you were always bound