Joy wrapped in thorns

I come from beige, Apartment number thirteen. I come from the empty lot, Lupine popping up In the desert of my childhood. I come from the cracked pavement, A pool filled with dirt. I come from this lonely place, It nursed me to life, I kiss the joyous weeds. I come from the apple tree Lost in the orchard. I come from the kitchen And the bottles with marbles Placed on the sill. I come from the bamboo, A bathtub in the garden. I come from the blackberries And their welcoming vines, Joy wrapped in thorns. I come from the pyracantha, Eating so-called poison berries. I come from he trampoline, Jumping high high high Above prickly oak leaves.