I am from the gusty winds,
from fashion statements and updated shoes.
I am from the gossip around town.
(Snickering, giggling,
suspicious eyes falshings back and forth.)
I am from the busy streets,
the 8-mile walk
from school to home on our 2-10's.
Memories I encounter as I pass by.

I am from Miguel burritos and Kanye glasses
from Dhahran and Michelle
I am from the "fast-lane"
and name-calling
from the "he said" and "she said".
I am from the poems of pain
with experience of life
and what hasn't yet occurred

I'm from Maple Hill and the E.Q. of 6.6
BBQ'd steak and sweet corn
from the souls that walks the streets
of my dear friends
the pain my mother bares
while she's home.

Inside my closet was a shoe box,
revealing memorable pictures
and items irreplaceable,
to drift inside my precious dreams.
I am from THAT certain reality--
let loose before I finished gorwing,
sailing away from what I know best.