Wednesday, July 16, 2014

I am from the beaches of Santa Monica

I am from the beaches of Santa Monica
From five minutes to finishing the rest of the pasta and
The million Legos pulled from under my bed.
I am from the bright red door and the gray and green peeled paint
And the bed that only I get the pleasure of sleeping in, surrounded
by a gray wall
I am from the crater in the front yard which,
When stood upon, the creature picks you up by your legs and you
feel the wind through your hair as if you have been secluded from
the world, but as long as he held on to your ankles you’d still be in
your front yard
I’m from the toy train tracks and the many skateboards that I have
From Peter and Nancy
And from the family of brown eyes, but the baby girl and
The year of the Dragon
I am from the cold nights that are spent huddled around the
warm laptop
From the story of my father and his hundred hens
And from the money he built through the dozens of eggs a day
I am from the moments of the bike rides to the beach. !
by Gus Kerndt

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