Flower Bed Soil
By WhoIAM
Its strange sometimes
how you can pinpoint directly
what personality traits are your own
and which ones you, seemingly,
inherited from your parents.
that way your father
sometimes can be miserable
siting on the couch;
and suddenly a witty comment can make a smile,
larger than life,
appear on the face.
laugh that ends the life of doldrums.
that way your mother
can make people enjoy her company
even though at first she
annoyed them.
the way your father can be so addament
about a subject
and then a subtle point of logic
can make him shut down
to the ground.
a laugh and a nod.
after many years away from home and family,
i can look back on these
days.
while i understand;
the effect of american television,
the effect of small town racisim,
the effect of having everything one might need
in a store across the street 24 hours a day,
the effect of world-class, superiority-complex training
by the society i was born into,
it is still strange.
when i realise,
in the dark,
i am what i was born into.
I am a house
at the end
of every
american drive-way.
lets hope there is a proverbial mold,
to be broken.