Where I’m From
By Harmodio Harris
I am from coins and ice cream,
From Coca-Cola and Pentel.
I am from the barks and meows.
I am from the palm tree,
The papos.
From long hours
Playing with Nick and Flappy,
Chiqui licking my face.
From playing in the mud,
Ruining brand-new white shirts.
Playing catch with dogs,
That don’t know a lot.
From petting cats,
That will later make my eyes itch.
From trying to pet a bird,
Which’s only goal is to bite me.
From long hours talking to a bird
That doesn’t understand me.
From making circuits,
For my hamster to race,
At the end a yellow reward awaits.
I am from long debates and work,
From Pablo and Melissa,
From the political sound Arias,
And rising high Harris.
From shut up
And let me finish.
From hair-pulling and screaming.
From it is Sunday
And long hours.
From take this,
And bring that.
From stop talking,
I will not.
I am from cries and screams,
From $75 drinks.
I am from lifter dirt.
From long grass,
Holding dangerous surprises.
From exploring the places,
Which they had told me not.
From sleeping in a bag,
Facing the stars.
From cooking with a small fire,
Some foil paper.
From climbing trees,
Take their fruit,
Let the sugary juices overflow.
I’m from Panama City and Harmodio Harris,
White rise and ropa vieja.
From the red, blue, and white,
From holding the flag.
From singing the anthem in the house.
From reading the constitution.
From the time my great grandfather
Was away of his home,
From the anger my father stored,
Since he was small.
Inside a DVD,
Hid the pictures of family smiles
And family cries.
My dad hairs getting grayer,
My mother’s face becoming wrinkle.
The pictures couldn’t fade,
But the fake smiles did.
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