Where I'm From

Okay, I'm jumping on the bandwagon with this post. I'm not sure who started this, but Jen, Diane, and Lisa have all created their own versions of the poem using this frame here. I was so inspired after reading theirs, that I caved and decided to do one of my own. The result is a really cool walk down memory lane.  So, here goes....

Where I'm from

I am from lycra biker shorts under navy uniform skirts; from knock-off Polo shirts and mid-year growth spurts.

I am from the neighborhood checker-boarded with parents, single parent households.

From honeysuckle vines, rose bushes, and Ms. Roses' bushes splashed with marigolds.

I am from broken backs when sidewalk cracks are unavoidable, elbows excluded from the tops of dining room tables, Joseph David, and Patricia Marlene-- emotionally unavailable.

I am from self defense when necessary to sweet meet pinches in church when contrary.

From streetlights signaling it's time to go and the irrefutable logic of because I said so...

I am from Designer-dress Baptist Church as Christ's bride, where clean on the outside of the cup is what's up, so don't worry about the inside.

I'm from the City of Angels, you buy we fry, and Scoe's #1; from Mustang GTs with ragtops dropped, cruisin' Crenshaw Blvd. in the sun.

I am from Summer, Summer, Summertime, cooling off naturally outside, red flavored Kool-aid, and no one ever getting hurt on a Slip 'n Slide.

I am from 32nd Street School, and series 1 Garbage Pail Kids. Where Adam Bombs are in short supply, Nervous Rex are prone to cry, and Don't Worry, Be Happy are words to live by.