I am from whirling funnel clouds,

from enchiladas on the dinner table,

from scorching days and freezing nights

Tumbleweeds rolling across roads

Screams roaring from across the house,

There is another, out the house you go.

Dew covered mornings and stars filling the night sky,

Mud stains cascading over the hood.

I am from rusty bars masking the windows,

From being told never take anything for granted

From grandma’s five dollar bills under the table,

Howling packs coming from the mountain

I am from pigskin till the street lights flicker on,

Bloody knees,  scraped elbow, and loose teeth,

Grill sizzling means barbeque Sundays, 

I am from basement video game marathons.

I am still from scorching hot days and freezing nights,

I am still from tumble weeds and and tortillas

I am from cowboys riding and dust blowing,

I am from the vine.