I am from plaid couches and plastic covers
       that squeak and rip.
I am from ***** pool tiles and loud pool cleaners
       humming, humming.
I am from the back street littered with fallen leaves
       and cracked tar.

I’m from “the Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”
I’m from “and also with you,” rattling around large stained glass,
        like coins in a jar.
  (loud rattling, coughing,
       crying children, flipping pages)

I’m from long car rides with music blasting,
       windows rolled down.
I’m from Tool, Wings, Metallica.
I’m from the Beatles, Foo Fighters,
       and that “obscure” Indie band
       that Walks the Moon.

I’m from sitting with my Dad,
       whistling the X-Files theme song
       the title sequence plays
I’m from totally shipping Mulder and Scully
       before it was cool.
       (actually it still isn’t cool)
I’m from “that’s my girl”, and “you’re my favorite”.

I’m from Joan and Beedee and tall,
       bright flowers
       and trees from a magic green thumb.
I’m from “Good Old Texas”
       and large Texan stars,
       and tall cowboy boots.

I’m from a ***** canvas, covered in thick paint
       it hangs so somberly.
As if as old as my great grandmother
      who placed it on the wall.
I’m from a family spl it in two.

I’m still from that large house down the street.
I’m still from that small apartment,
       with the map on the wall.
Bright red pins stuck in that wall,
       on cities with names I've memorized.

My family tree expands,
       a large oak with strong roots,
       and weak branches.
I am from a tree with two branches to fill.
It does not end with me.

I am from the cities far away from here,
       Art filled cities that my children will see.
I am from the murals
       written and drawn across the town.
These cities will be our newer,
       stronger branch upon the family tree.