Where I’m From

Logan Wynns

I’m from dirt road shortcuts
and churches every half mile
home cooked meals and family gatherings

I’m from that trip in our bulky silver car
legs cramped with stuff packed to the brim
eyes focusing on the road
arriving late to new asphalt and clean walls

I’m from worn, tired pages
no longer white
as I whip them open again

I’m from messy handwriting
late nights
all for a paper with a nice sticker or a “well done!”

I’m from shaggy pencil lines
graphite smeared on my fingers
the smell of fresh shavings on the floor

I’m from the taste of the road
the asphalt no longer new and sweet
stinging knees
and a sore mouth

I’m from the thick black fabric
that was tied around my waist
engraved with my name in gold
(knuckles full of splinters)

But most importantly,
I’m from people.
laughing until our stomachs hurt
making coffee in the middle of the night
hands getting cramped on gaming consoles
Because shaggy pencil lines and family gatherings mean nothing
without them.