Yo soy de shelves overflowing with old books
De Tom’s toothpaste y black licorice
Yo soy del faded red front door, and chipping green painted walls
Del burnt and flooded basement, the smell of smoke lingering for too many years
Yo soy del city of roses
Los oak giants watching over the backyard
Whose long gone limbs I remember
As if they were my own
Soy de brown eyes y camping
De Oma Betty y Tia Leah
Yo soy de forgetfulness y stylishly late
Y de popping my knuckles
You soy de “be yourself”
Y Circle Game
Soy de caramel baked bri y dim sum
Yo soy de Portland
Clam Chowder y Sambal Udang
De escaping to America and new beginnings
On a motorcycle
The peace pipe
Collecting dust on a bookshelf
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