I Am From

I am from the yellow house with brown trim;
The neighbors with 10 pit bulls and more cousins than I could count
Who'd bring us homemade tamales when they had extra

I am from a street lined with mulberry trees;
A creek in which we floated down leaves like boats
And scrambled to the other side of the bridge as they passed below

I am from walks to Dairy Queen, learning to ride my bike in College Hill Park;
Long summer evenings and the never-ending chorus of the cicadas
Who left their shells on the trees to be picked up by brothers who'd scare their younger sisters

I am from water fights and playing in the rain
Streets made of brick and gutters overflowing;
Barefoot we run, twirl, splash, shove, drench

I am from the piano bench where I sit with my mother, refusing to practice
Even though it's only 10 minutes and you'd have been done a long time ago
If you'd just stop crying. . .

I am from home.
And I am still home.