I am from lug nuts,
from meth injection and coolant fluid.
I am from the treadmarks on the pavement on the freeway.
I am from the rose bush,
the dead oak tree
whose only mark on the planet is the missing patch of grass on the front lawn.

I'm from the cleats on my dresser and the chocolate icing in my room,
from protein shakes and boxing gloves,
sparring with my trainer and being motivated to work out by my father.
I'm from the players and the lonely ones,
from the famous phrase on to the next one
I'm from rock bottom to rebuilding my world with my bare hands

I'm from the obsidian fireplace,
and the smell of kerosene
from the pancake my grandma makes,
the recipe of the swedish pancakes that has been passed down generations
and the wise advice my dad always has to offer.
over my bed is a shelf,
displaying trophies of athletic achievement.