Where I'm From

I am from pastels,

from finger paint and crayons.

I am from the dust that settles under a marimba’s wooden keys

(Grey, fine

powdery enough to make one sneeze)

I am from the orchid,

the blades of grass on the school lawn

whose body would bend

as kids whistled with it.

 

I’m from red velvet cupcakes and hard contact lenses,

from 1975 and Iggy Azalea

I’m from the derps and the princesses

from the abgs and boba gangsters.

I’m from Hold you down, like I'm givin' lessons in physics

and other ratchet songs.

 

I’m from Pots and Basins,

fried rice and oyster pancakes.

From the journey overseas my grandparents travelled

the coffee my father sipped to work through the night.

On the night stand lays a notebook,

filled with doodles,

a list of old crushes

to the recalls of nightmares.

 

I am from those moments –

glitter loose in the wind

aimlessly landing where they will

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