I am from chlorine-tinted hair and abrasive water wings—
From an oak kitchen table,
where my life changed.
I am from sensitive feet on burning concrete,
a white picket fence,
and the melting pot of places I called home.

I am from playful pledges to stay pure until the age of 35—
From Bible thumpers and republicans,
who kept me frustrated and joyful.
I am from the frigid winter air and oversized sweatshirts,
the altercations on my hair color,
and the frenzy of finding friends when mine failed me.

I am from separate but loving parents—
my active mother and my sweet-toothed dad.
I’m from my brother’s self esteem,
which I used to envy.

I am from discoveries of my independence and intelligence—
From a recent return to my childhood,
when I remembered the delicacy of innocence.
Truthfully, I am still from the bleach blonde hair,
which used to turn green in the chlorine-treated pool.
I’m still from the absence of shoes where they’re needed,
and pavement-stained socks.