I am from stupid kids with duct-taped efforts
rented rooms and too-late rent
which minimum wage can’t fix.
I am from shoes kissing rain-soaked pavement, and
sirens biting ankles like
the same neighborhood dog
in every town.
I am from mistakes and missed opportunities.
Too much of one thing, and
not enough
of everything else.
I am from boxes and
outgrown shoes.
The smell of cardboard and
hand-me downs
fills my lungs.
I am from a crippled tree,
hacked down
in my backyard, burning
in a pile of bad memories.
I am from a place
that was demolished;
a road that goes
in all directions, but nowhere
in the end.
Where I’m going
is not where I’m from-
I will make sure of that.
