ISSUE 3 / FALL 2005
Issue 3

Going West
by Ira Marlowe

by Sonya Hunter

by Jane Selkye

Touching down in Knoxville
by True Margrit

Touching Down in Knoxville
by True Margrit

Knoxville, Tennessee is my hometown. I went to high school and college there, I had my first apartment there, first job, first kiss, first nightclub gigs there. And then I moved to California where I had many more jobs, apartments, kisses, and gigs. Yet the map always looked like this: "Knoxville" in big bold familiar letters in the southeast of the U.S. wilderness and "San Francisco" in lower case alien letters perched precariously on a jagged bay way over in the west and a homesick stick figure of me standing by Golden Gate Bridge gazing east. I would go home and visit my mom and my friends every year. But then I was broke, or busy gigging, or in love, or brokenhearted and lonely and-snap!--four years went by and I hadn't gone home. And finally, when at the end of those four years, I did get on the plane to fly east, I knew the map had changed.


waiting for the plane to land
a stranger in my homeland
we flew through Atlanta's lights
and San Francisco's remote tonight

I'll be touching down in Knoxville

the streets don't quite look the same
though I recall their names
different houses with different beds
and San Francisco in my head

I'll be touching down in Knoxville

they say all roads lead to home
but there's a fork in my road
three thousand miles wide
'cause you're in San Francisco tonight

I'll be touching down in Knoxville

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