I am from the hospital, from my mom and my dad,

     I am from the yellow house in Brookfield,
with a tire swing, a fence, and a bee’s nest.
     I am from where the flowers reached for the sky,
the rocks pushed for the ground,

     I am from my Uncle’s paddle boat, from the land of the high,
From Jerry, and Laura, and Matt, and Leah, and Elliott, and Charlotte, and Liam.
     I am from the house of a city, where I leave for peace.
From where “A for effort” was keeping me trying,
     and “you’re a speed freak” made me feel alive.

I am from a house of Catholics, where everyone, but me, is religious.
     I am from the hospital in Wisconsin, grandparents from Europe,
where brats and beer are a holy grail.
     I am from Ireland, Germany, and America.

I am from the pictures in my family room, in the hall,
     in the kitchen, in all the rooms, besides the bathroom...
I am from the boat that brought my grandparents took to get here,
     the car the drove them around, and the house that they lived in,
From Helen and Gene.