I am from baseball caps
From Band-aid and Ty
I am from the backyard forest
Cloudy, familiar
It tasted like the sun
I am from the lizards the frogs
Who hid in a forgotten hot tub

I am from the July birthdays and up-turned noses
from Mary and Margaret and Mary Margaret
I am from the over indulgers and nonstop talkers
From “Be careful” and “It’s not dangerous”
I’m from small churches and “Your dad reads well”

I am from a small, forgettable town on highway ninety
Raised on Fried rice and pork chops
From the yellow brick roads my grandfather followed
To the lizards my father kept as a child

Packed in a moving box under my parents bed
Hidden in books that haven't seen light
Stories are preserved
One, about a little girl with long blond hair
Now vaguely unfamiliar