I Am From

I am from the lavish graffiti
that colors old Englewood.
I am from cowering beneath
plywood bunk beds
fearful of who might be
outside my window.
I am from walking down
the middle
of the road, because the
sidewalks were too dangerous, the
drunks would hide under the cars
and grab passing feet. I am from
Filipino accents
Peelings, nuting more dan
peelings. I am from
pansit and lumpia to
sushi and tampura.
I am from laughing
until tears stream
down your face,
crying in secret because
it's not right to cry.
I am from the mountains
skiing in the winter,
hiking in the summer.
I am from humble Christmas
morning pictures, no presents
in pajamas
and lamb for Easter dinner.
I am from uniforms,
plaid jumpers that itched,
direct instruction (meaning
the whole class answered
in unison), recess as an eighth
grader, and folded hands.
Love, simple, complex love.
I am from love.
I am from