I am from the flip side The side entrance, the trap door. Where new really means new to me, Things that were missed by never overlooked, I am from rocks and thinking I am from compasses and spark. I am from rolled change and cigarettes. I am from perfume bottles and Cowboys & Indians. I am from Play-doh and a cardboard box train. I am from my imagination: a deer, a waitress, or a band teller. I am from a set of silky nylon Wonder Woman underwear (to and bottom) From swings that were a flat black plastic beam between two chains - Run up to it and slap that plastic With your belly and fly Tennessee, Michigan, California Illinois, Montana, new Jersey, Mexico, PA. Airplanes, bus trips, the car is packed to the roof. On the road, on the clock, on the Money Rest stops are my second home. I am from candy bars and skinned knees. from Barbie, Wizard of Oz and Nancy Drew I am from pets and pronouns the ocean and mountains I am from working hard and quiet prayers, the guidance and strength in my life. I am from sweetly scented lilac bushes May crownings and rain drops I am from curvy crab apple trees fall foliage and a lucky red scarf I am from bright tiger lilies clear water and a wooden dock I am from Beatles and bass guitars Budweiser beer and baseball games I am from neighborhood BBqs and watermelon seeds Tool boxes and soiled aprons I am from gin rummy and Barbie Dolls Climbing trees and the hiding places Where I went to be alone I am from a haze where there are no people. I am fro,m empty roo,s and dark hallways Phantom notes in pencil taped to mirrors and doors I'm inside or outside but never home. I come from empty scothch bottles and empty promises; Irish Lace ont he windows, always, so no one can see In; Brothers who held on to me protectively and each other; Memories that have no texture, no color or no substance; Cemetaries around the country that hold my memories of a past I don't want to visit. I was born of a motorcycle crash. Not there, but the injured victim. I became an adult the day my daddy died, And my father came home to stay - The day my mother simply faded away. I'm from green shingles and a spooky ghost, A backyard dog and ten cent post, "The Queen of Hearts" and Good Ol' Boys, Camping trips and "For Show" toys, I'm from iceberg salad, ice cream stand, and taking walks - No Holding Hands. I'm from lemon oil and Amaretto Peaches soaked in wine I'm from mandolins, upright pianos, guitars, jugs and kazoos I'm from snowflakes on my toungue and cool wet sand. I am from wiffle balls, from wasps' nests in the eaves. I am from ice box cake and TV dinners, Our Miss Brooks and I Remember Mama. I am from trains: gigner ale and salted peanuts in the club car of the Phoebe Snow. I am from meatballs or soda bread City lights or too many whites blue collar guys or shirts and ties folks of god or those who nod most importantly, I'm from my parents. I am from Earl's athleticism. I am from Virginia's wit. I am a country child from the city. I am independence and connections To my Past, my Now, and my Later. I am from football and road trips and laughter. I am from music and tradition the family chord that echoes from the minivan. I am from academia yet at home in fantasy Keeping pencil & paper at my bedside.