Outlier

No tribe of my own

Born an outcast

This never leaves you

I embrace it

Far from hopeless

I flew far away from the scene of the crime

To another land

A land of milk, honey and oranges

Oranges as big as basket balls

Not bad for a child born on a tennis court

First there were three

Now there is one

Stone Canyon, run baby run

Head east to where the scorpions play

Find shelter in the Mesquite

Under the Oleander and Tamarisk

Where you can reach up and grab the tip of a quarter moon

And watch the stars spill out over the valley

The wind blowing your long auburn hair

The date palms rustling while the cicadas whir

So far away from where the King lived and died

It’s hard to relate, did that really happen?

Sure, it did

Don’t you remember?

That’s why you are an outlier

A child born of Beale Street

Suckled above Sunset Boulevard, schooled by Fellini – and the nomads of the desert

You found your truth