When I love America,
America loves me back
and I am not a tramp
wandering homeless and heartless
but a woman
with a camp.
when i was small, summer was my favorite time of year. not only did it mean freedom from school, but it meant my birthday, too. i've always loved the sun. when i began to grow up i thought i loved autumn, and i do. but as far as i'm concerned, there will never be anything that compares to summer.
before living abroad i thought 'america' was shameful. the politically-correct term is the united states, or the USA, or just the states. then i met a bunch of people not from the states who called my homeland america, and that just about blew my mind. it was good to come 'home' and be able to call it whatever i wanted. it was better to leave again, and even better to return indefinitely.