I’m from the stench of the sugar beets;
piled high next to the Saginaw river.
which looks more like a garbage pile.

I’m from playing outside,
with neighbors and friends;
waiting for the street lamps to come on.

I’m from bead buddies and paints,
from duct tape to glitter;
the crafters of the neighborhood.

I’m from exploring mud,
and dancing in the rain for hours on end;
Then going in for a warm shower.

I’m from opening presents early;
then re wrapping them before my parents came home,
hoping they wouldn’t notice.

I’m from Michigan;
the only state shaped like a mitten,
where no one vacations for fun.
but also the place I call home.