Where I'm From

I am from painkillers

From Advil and Asprin

I am from the grass on our hill,

Wet, sharp; It slips under my feet.

I am from the tree outside my window.

The breeze in the summer,

which cools one faces,

on a scorching hot day.

I am from smart-assery and arguments,

from Colin and Thjis

I am from the witty bastards,

And the dumb fools.

From "Welcome Home,"

To "Good Morning, We've been robbed again."

I am from a squad of atheists,
Surrounded by an army of Christians.

I am from a small, miserably cold town,
Which I never even lived in.

I am from a line of settled people,
When I'm a traveler.

I'm from spicy food and churrascarias,
From the blood on our staircase,
the destroyed nerve in my fathers leg.

I am from the picutre books of my parents,
Filled with family faces,
And I'm from my father's computer files,
Just the four of us,
Happy as ever.

I'm from the branch
The branch that fell of the tree
The branch that stemmed.
I'm from the tree who's leaves

are far too distant,
But are always ever green.

That is where I'm from.