Essay: I am From Poem (Anouk)

This was originally written during a time of intense PCTYD for an 8th grade English assignment.

I am from a 12-story red building,
shrouded in smoggy skies and misting rain,
from singing songs in the hallway and enjoying communal snacks.
I am from eating cornstarch-based packing peanuts,
and a squishy, slimy strawberry with tendons.

I am from building functional things out of ⅛ inch balsa,
from throwing Frisbees through the fountain, playing soccer with small dogs,
dropping eggs off of a two-story parking garage,
protected only by overly padded boxes, parachutes, and failed ski mechanisms.

I am from a Keep Smiling lemon,
And from synchronized showers.
I am from using plastic bags as replacements for lost sandals,
from shedding bits of Logan Field turf all over the stairs.
I am from KFC spicy crispy chicken ads
Interrupting and delaying amazing singing

I am from a room said to smell of old cheese,
from being beaten by the Canadian at naming US States.
I remember advertising “Dial Super-Stinky Soap” with my roommate,
improvising an ad break for the ad break.

Screaming the lyrics to American Pie,
Are you in a good mood? and Bring on the roasted potatoes!
Throwing an RA paper plates with questions and compliments,
recalling dreams of crushed Oreos and horns patterned like rotting bananas
to RAs who fall over laughing.

I’m from discussing wifi hacking tactics during activities,
from The wall makes electricity! and Don’t throw the Frisbee into the holy pool of water!
Calling the talent show program a menu in a moment of acute stress,
causing confusion by reenacting the scene to random bystanders
RAs dancing to Let it Go,
being chased by a swarm of students desperately asking for directions to Idaho,
getting a panicked “Leave me alone!” in response.

Hallelujah, All Star, Count on Me, and Piano Man,
Jeopardy! Theme Song wake-up calls and Closing Time blasted through the halls
the Periodic Table Song playing in an infinite loop as bedtime music.
It’s lights out
But we’re cooking noodles near midnight in the lounge.

I’m from RAs singing and hugging giant, whirring fans,
declaring them new friends.
Too bad it’s the last day.
I’m from deafening Spotify parties in Alma’s room,
And a mattress dead set on falling off a bed frame.

I’m from clipping fingernails with scissors,
from dousing people in water from plastic bins,
throwing dripping sponges,
a malfunctioning garden hose.

I’m from RAs spending the entire breakfast period cutting fruit,
complaining about their names and laundry times,
Pulling up three chairs to fit seven people around a four-person table.

Dead chicken bits left over the weekend stinking up the classroom,
Exactly 147 napkins and twelve straws stolen from the cafeteria,
Laughing about the “Okay” food safety rating
Is “Okay” really good enough?

I’m from Love Tape Day,
the Union Green, Campion and the Bannan building,
from nictitating membranes for windows,
Cars that go on train tracks and wifi drones
I’m from EGRD.A, EGRD.B, and INBS.A,
and being the weird, nerdy kids the basketball girls look down on.

I am from the Hugalujahs,
from a generation lost in space
I am from having an RA too good for this world
And the most amazing hall because the first one wasn’t right.
I am from group hugs as medicine for bee stings,
from cinnamon roll hugs in the lounge
I am from CTY Seattle.

SUN 17.2