Thunder Road, my little support to Obama

My local hero sat in the porches, looking at the sun down without the loved girl. She’s listening to fanfare and heavenly melodies, she heard his strange whispers and she decided irrigate flowers in the middle cotton thistle.

The noisy would be deafening, they wanted hide our “promise land” that we know sometimes sad, sometimes hard and also without short horizons but we will always sail toward our Itaca .

We fight together in our own way; “no surrender” will be our cry

Fireworks attract our sights and military march showed us fierceness and martial walk, not our feelings

Now, we only navigate across our “river”, dreaming the stage where sing together with our friends we anchored to the real and wanted world.

I want show my own weakness when someone talks me about the lack of actions of Obama, as if he had been a magician without our help.

No, I’ll watch from the powder of those desert roads to the fake grass of insatiable wealth; and there with my “Brownsville girls”, I’ll embrace my real life in my “little village” and yes, I’ll always support Obama.