Javier Davila

Where am I from?

I am from chasing my hoard of bunnies and rabbits in my backyard,

from falling off a cinder block and breaking my arm,
and blaming it on my sister.
I am from swinging on an ancient tree branch,
And from my endeavors to try and climb my, soon to be stump, tree.

I am from the uncomfortable yet snug backseat of a 1998 Astro,

with 26 hour drives to our grandparents,
and sometimes a foot in my face.
To the refreshing air in a ranch out in the middle of nowhere,
to the smell of burnt leather when marking a calf.

I am from the vast green acres of our ranch,

To a smaller house in the city,
With fighting old grandparents.
From my grandma telling off my grandpa,
To telling me Calllese! Todavia tiene leche en los lavios when i mentioned a girlfriend.

I am from Rosies old adobe candy shop,

Still accepting my dollar bills as currency in a foreign country,
And probably ripping me off.
I am not from the clothes in my backpack,
but the power cords of my Gamecube and the infamous Zelda Collectors Edition disk

I am from beans,
From steak sundays,
And horrible school food.
I am a refugee from my parents along with my sister,
On a mission to chug down a bottle of syrup under the petite kitchen table

I am from the CW,

Recording the newest episodes of Smallville for my brothers,
And sometimes forgetting on purpose.
I am the kid that would ask for his turn to play Need For Speed,
On our 30 inch Panasonic frenal television.

I am not from the house at 38th avenue,

But from the old photo album hidden in our temple.