"I Am From" poem by Geri

I am from listening to Dinah Washington, Herb Albert and Scheherazade on the stereo,
from a clean smelling house, always cleaning, sweeping among precious books,
I'm from a leaky, creaky, rental house in the back, off Crenshaw Blvd. in L.A.,
among the wild uncut lawn, great for hiding in,
a fig tree to climb, the owl tree and rusting swing set,
I am from the ubiquitous shelled snails in the abundant ground covering ivy,
in which I, not so secretly, pee in because I'm too busy playing and too scared to venture into the house, I'm from the owl tree, with the round layer of bark missing; I'm sure an owl lives there, and that's his door, "Mr. Owl, I love you. Please come out. I have a popsicle for you,"
the owl tree whose limbs gave the best shade, and housed my imaginary owl friend,
I'm from volatile, explosive, angry energy,
from a goateed, beatnik, artist, Jewish man and a guilt ridden sexy Christian girl-woman,
I'm from late night people, poverty and baseball,
and from finding the wealth in just going to the park, playing, playing catch,
I'm from, when I was young, "Why can't you be more like....", "Go out to play," and "You little nudnik," Yiddish for 'pest', and "You're overly sensitive", "You're just like your mother," "You're a pain in the ass," to when I was grown, "You're a wonderful mother,"
"You're a wonderful teacher," "You're a wonderful daughter,"
I'm from eating, drinking and gathering with hippy friends for political discourse and debate,
I'm from where ever we kept moving to all over, born in L.A., ancestors from Russia, Germany, Poland, France, England, Ireland - can't I just be from America?
from lox and bagels, pickled tongue, ham hocks and navy white beans,
my best friend brothers, my cohorts, running wild throughout the neighborhood, protectors of one another, climbing, hide-n-seeking, disappearing into cowboys, Indians, a war or some bad guys, photos on the wall, photos in frames, photos in albums - our recorded history
of who we were, and how we came to be