I am from hair bands,

From hairspray and bobby pinned strands.

I am from lights hanging above the stage.

(Bright, blinding,

Creating countless stars impossible to gauge).

I am from the charter bus,

The choir room

The mirrors that have seen all of us,

a thousand sweating dancers.

 

I’m from flour and ovens,

From Sinatra and Rowling.

I’m from the loud mouths

And the hear-me-outs,

From Wake up! And Sing out!

I’m from church pews

And ladies clad in hats

And introductions and reviews.

 

I’m from Miami and Havana’s Streets,

Fried plantains and linen sheets.

From the rights mi abuelo lost

To el dictador,

The sleep mi gran abuela fought, that being only the smallest cost.

 

I am from a closet full of boxes

Caked in dust and love,

A pile of black ,white and sepia

scenes of dainty white gloves.

I am from the Christmas mornings--

long before my time--

From presents opened without the fear of crime.