2017-06-13
Where I’m From, Part B
I am from dirt and rock
And slowly withering grass—
“Desert Landscaping”.
I am from the overgrown oleander bush
Standing guard beneath our front window—
Look, but don’t touch.
I am from too-big gardening gloves,
From pulling weeds in the yard with Daddy
And ice water after, tooth-achingly cold.
I’m from tacos and dim sum,
Hot tea and cool salsa,
Tamales and fried rice.
I’m from Chinese nursery songs with Grandma,
And English ones from PBS,
From Daddy’s cracked hands
And Mommy’s curly brown hair,
From staying up too late reading books to my sister
In the bed whose bottom bunk we shared
And filled the top with a zoo of stuffed animals.
I am from music, always, everywhere,
From piano, trumpet, flute, stereo, television, and portable sing-along cassette player,
From boy bands and hymns, the Bee Gees and Disney,
From “Peace Like a River” and “Hit Me Baby One More Time”,
From singing and listening and playing and rehearsing
and spontaneous bursts of song like uncontained joy.
and spontaneous bursts of song like uncontained joy.
