corner room1
By Trista Dominiqu

Grew up So Cali by way
of Lynwood, Long Beach
and Downey.

Gotta love the sun that
heats our days,
wearing flip flops all year
September, January and
May.

Palm trees are on every
corner.
It’s not a long drive to
the Mexico border.

Our cultures mingle in
the burb’s of Long Beach,
hear the olote man’s jingle
he pushes cart up the
street.

Spend days basking or
hiding from sun.
Weekends at Venice
listening to a circles drum.

Graffiti and murals we call
it art.
No admission here it sets
us apart.

Bro, homie, dog, dude, and
fool.
This is our way of greeting
choose your own cool.

Don’t believe what you see
on the Housewives of Beverly
Hills and Orange County.
You won’t see those people
on the real streets of So Cali.

Drive on for awhile where
street meets meadow,
you’ll find a famous sign
that watches over our burbs,
barrios, and ghettos.

Streets they tie us together,
but keep us apart.
Saying which one can have a
Trader Joes, and which can
have a Wal Mart.

So Cali has a beauty that’s
hardly portrayed, but we
know its beauty under
Jacaranda shade.

Listen to the songs of our
home hip hop, mariachi,
folk and rock;
bumping from cars on each
and every block.

Our home is our own and
with each other we can relate.
Growing up So Cali from
Whittier to South Gate.

From Compton, San Pedro,
Hollywood and Watts we
learn from the love and hate
So Cali has taught.

Take what you can from the
streets that you roam.
Just remember that fool
sitting next to you also calls
So Cali their home.

Don’t hate on those who
move to the O.C. and the
valley,
they just don’t want theirs
knowing the hardships of
growing So Cali.

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