When I was little I used to believe
That I could see the shores of Europe
From my perch on the Jersey shore.
My mom always told me that it wasn’t
Europe, it was a ship,
Or an island.
But I always knew better.

Right within my vision, I
Could see all the funny looking people
With the ugly teeth,
And the weird accent
Who sounded like they had marbles in their mouths.
But my mom could never see them
Even though they were right there
Right in front of her.
I always told her she just needed to look harder.

I travelled to Europe,
But the streets weren’t the same ones that I’d seen
From across the ocean.
Where were the finely lined cobblestones, the lovely
People? Where was the imagined paradise, where was the crimeless
Streets, where were the dimly lit streetlights, always leading to the unknown?
Where was the destined paradise
That I had always thought Europe was?
I told myself I just needed to look harder.

I looked back across the ocean,
Looking for my Europe,
My place that I knew was always there.
A white sail, a big ship,
Closer to the coast than usual,
I saw after all this time.
I guess it was just a ship after all.