I am from fish sticks and canned beans in front of the television
Watching fireworks and Tinkerbell over the castle on a Sunday night.
I am from the spaceship-and-atom on the spines of my favorite books
Borrowed from the bookmobile in a bowling alley parking lot.
I am from the terminal town,
The town south of the river, right on the border, a town of
Old steel bridges and railroad ties black with creosote.
I am from the house down the block.
I am from a street made of W.P.A. brick.
I am from teachers and other quiet heroes,
From Kip's ardent promise to make a new sun
And Mrs. Hawks' loan of a few more good books.
I am from five seconds long ago.
I am from a place that tells you "the best is yet to come"
(it had better be),
Where "everybody knows your name"
But "getting smart" can be a crime.
A place where you know your friends from across the street,
And sometimes they know you.
Where opportunity's knocks are faint and few and far between.
I am from a good place to be from.
Written for a parents' assignment at Mt. Tabor Middle School, Portland OR
September 21, 2005
©2005 Alan P. Scott. All rights reserved.
Last updated October 15, 2005
Contact me:
ascott@pacifier.com