I wanted to explain but still be aesthetic,
So I said “Lucy, let’s get poetic.”
Last year I spent a few months in France,
Such an amazing place that I fell into a trance.
My short life as a Parisian, I still often mourn,
And cry to the heavens, “Why isn’t that where I was born?!”
I read all the comments that you sent to my blog,
And I confess that I don’t know much about Prague.
I certainly haven’t been everywhere,
And I hope that this poem will help clear the air.
I thought about giving your comments no weight,
Just writing them off as “haters gonna hate.”
But I felt like your criticisms deserved a response,
Because I hear the Wifi’s great in Aix-en-Provence.
Apparently you can order pizza there too,
Which is something I didn’t know how to do.
One semester in Paris, preceded by a summer in Cannes,
Then 10 days in Corsica, where I worked on my tan.
The city of Tours for 3 weeks, Giverny for a day,
Antibes, Nice, and ritzy Saint Tropez.
I loved Amsterdam, Germany, London, and Rome,
But I’d be lying if I said that I never missed home.
Our laws about medicine are different from you,
Though critique your healthcare system is not something I’d do.
But as someone who gets the flu EVERY year,
It’s nice to buy Nyquil OTC, like we do around here.
I’m addicted to Big Gulp, filled to the rim with ice,
So for me, Coca Light just didn’t suffice.
I hear Europeans aren’t obsessed with soda like I,
Which is why there’s no 7-11 at Versailles.
I really should learn to drink my coffee black;
This daily dose of cream will give me a heart attack.
Abroad, I would rather go out and explore,
But at home, Netflix I began to adore.
Europe has a lack of online streaming;
It’s one thing in the US that I found redeeming.
I know that taking the metro is a great deal
Cheaper and faster than sitting behind the wheel.
But from time to time, did I miss the allure
Of jamming out in my Jeep? Oui, bien sûr!
“Of course” is what I meant in the phrase above,
For those who don’t speak the language of love.
I admit that I NEED Froyo, like, all the time,
But in the scheme of things is that such a crime?
Gelato is better; we ALL know it’s true,
But I can’t eat that and still be skinny like you.
I’m scared of your electrical outlets, but you’d feel the same way
If your hairdryer exploded, because that shit was cray.
I’m a fan of Solo Cups and will always be;
My European friends all agree with me!
Compared to shaking hands, it’s much more fun
To get kisses whenever you greet someone.
But sometimes when I meet someone new,
It’s a relief not to give a “bisou.”
Do you see a trend among what I’m saying?
When I obsess over Europe, I am not playing.
I just made a list of things I like having here,
That I’ve realized I kind of missed last year.
My dream in life is to be a jetsetter,
And I have never once said that America’s better.
Castles, baguettes, Irish pubs, escargot,
Nude beaches, pizzerias, Galician gaiteiros,
In Germany, I tried sausage that I thought I’d detest;
Why do they call it WURST when it’s clearly the BEST?!
Cute boys on mopeds, brie, macarons,
Dutch clogs called “klomps,” streets of cobblestones,
Christmas markets, Harrods, the Mediterranean, the Pope,
Do we have any of this in America? The answer is, “Nope.”
When I grouped all of Europe together, it was an accident;
If it offended you, that’s not what I meant!
To point out things I missed abroad was my only intention,
Something I’m sorry that I did not mention.
What I feel for your continent is a strong attraction,
And I didn’t expect such a bad reaction.
If you say they sell Twizzlers in Ireland, I’m sure they do,
And hey, by the way, I enjoy your brew.
Those of you who told me to stay home are out of luck,
Because my love for Europe is something that stuck.
A few people commented, I’m sad to confess,
That now they want to visit America less.
Do NOT let something that one dumb girl might say
About this great country keep you away.
Come drink some Jack Daniels, where it’s made in Tennessee,
Or take a raft down the mighty Mississippi,
Taste gumbo in New Orleans, then stay for Mardi Gras,
Collect lots of beads! Hell, take off your bra!
Visit Hemingway’s house, the Southernmost Point, in Key West,
Drive from New York to Cali to check out the rest.
Hike the Grand Canyon, then eat apple pies,
Watch a Yankees game, and catch fireflies.
Come for Thanksgiving dinner, don’t be shy;
There are so many things here for you to try!
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