I am from fantasy books.
From crayola chalk
and black barbeques.
I am from the contented cats,
purring on my bed,
warm, fluffy, and always brimming with love,
that was almost tangible.
I am from green parkes and greener trees
at every grassy patch along the road
I'm from big noses and and bigger tempers.
From Katherine (GaGa) Brock
and James (Jimmy) Pascarello.
From mathematical brains and poetical hands.
From “You read too much” and “Be quiet.”
I'm from Passover Seders,
Christmas eve feasts.
I'm from Italian roots and Russian paleness,
a culmination brought to the earth in little old NJ.
From fresh fish,
el dente pasta.
From the angry yelling of my father,
the silent fuming of a grandmother.
On my dresser I have pictures of them all mother, father, grandmother.
The smiling faces remind me of better relationships,
and times when I went to sleep peaceful,
and full of ignorance.