I am from

I am from cassette players

Blasting old tunes from my parents’ time

The white curtains

Hanging in the living room

As a back drop for a green couch

Familiar with bodyslams and full nelsons

I am from Tagalog curse words

Echoing through the house in a percussive rhythm

Seemingly appropriate for a household of nine

I am from bedtime stories

That started with “Back in my days…”

Hand-me-downs, top ramen,

$5 dollar haircuts, and a busy street intersection

In the city

Where a blend of Spanish, Chinese, Tagalog, and English

Resonate through corner stores and Muni stops

An anthem of working class immigrants and citizens

I am from those pixie sticks

That came in different colors and flavors

Bounded, constricted--tightly with a rubber band

Cramped

Like a family in pursuit a dream

Narrated to them in photographs

Carefully planned and placed into albums

Negatives nowhere to be found

Or perhaps forgotten

Because trauma

Hurts the head

Resulting in...

Historical amnesia