Where I'm From

I am from teapots,
from Agha Seebeel and Sadaf.
I am from the sand under the wooden balcony.
(Warm, moist
it smelled so refreshing.)
I am from the fig trees,
the pomegranate seeds
whose ruby color stains my
teeth with its bittersweet taste.

I am from Persian New Year and Big Bear winters,
from Baba Safaie and Mama Atabaki.
I'm from the pride in oneself
and the nonesense jokes of the past.
From always greet with salaam,
and pepper meets a dirty mouth.
I am from the belief in Allah, where scarves
hide women and Ramadan teaches sacrifice.

I'm from Berkeley and Iran,
kabob with rice and Ashe Jo.
From the near-death trigger of my father's life
to the lost Mickey
the broken teapot on my mother's foot.
In my closet hides a treasure box
filled with memories,
a collection of field trips
and old friends to cherish forever.
I am from the corridor walls,
too-familiar paintings & sculptures
that will forever be where I'm from.