I’m from broken windows

from keep your eye on the ball and swing through

from get up get up get out of here gone!

I’m from pigskins and grass stains

from the hundreds of suns at night when I gazed up at the sky

from a time before phones…a time of

bike rides

I’m from five blocks of speeding through shortcuts

from good, and great memories

from hours of stomach rumbling

I’m from three generations of, going their “separate” ways

from lost friendships and gained

from tears on mahogany wood lower six feet under

I’m from different places than others

from twenty-six miles...where no one goes

from late nights and early am’s

I’m from new beginnings

from friday night fans howling like planes flying over head

from scrambling for air, from laughter

I’m from broken windows

from broken homes

from new beginnings