I’m Not That Kind of Girl
Iâ€™m a put a marshmallow on a stick
put it in the fire
and burn it tillâ€™ it flakes
kind of girl.
I donâ€™t drink kur aka kurek soup
prude and proper
and greet my huge polish family
with Czesc dobry weiczor.
Iâ€™d rather sit around the campfire
barbecue, drink soda, and sing
a campfire song
in the black of night.
I donâ€™t want to look out my window
and see Majdanek concentration camp
where my great grandfather lived.
No, Iâ€™m not that kind of girl.
Still when my father tells his stories
and I pull the marshmallows
from the fire,
ablaze in the night sky,
I just want to go home.
Maybe I am that kind of girl.