After George Ella Lyon and with thanks to Sherman Alexie for the opening line

I am from fried bologna with four little cuts so it will lie flat in the pan
I am from sandspurs in my bare feet
I am from Louisville, Kentucky, where my father carried me
           on his shoulders
           to a rowboat in the flood
I am from Apex, North Carolina, where Mr. Pearson caught me
           and my cousins throwing dirt clods at each other
           all over his just-planted cornfield
                      and I was the only one who didn’t run away
I am from Pendleton, North Carolina, where I chopped cotton and peanuts
            in the summer on Mr. Joe Horne’s farm
            and squirmed in his wife Ann’s
            Sunday School class each Sunday
I am from Moore County, North Carolina, where Billy Dunlap and I raced
            down the fire road side by side and jumped over a black snake
            in unison without missing a stride
            where we dammed up the creek to make a swimming hole
            where they couldn’t find us one night when the church service
                        started because we were walking among the tombstones
                        talking with our heads bowed like two little old men
I am from vinyl records & eight-tracks & cassettes & AM/FM radio & CDs
                        & mp3 & I-tunes & Pandora, and I’ve listened to
                        “My Generation” on each one
I am from Momma pinching me in church to shush me
                        and my sisters tattling on me and
                        sharing a room with my little brother
                        who is now a big-time corporate ex-eck-you-tive and
                        I cherish any time I get to spend with him
I am from Baptists don’t dance, but we can still tap our feet
 
From Beautiful Truth—A Gathering of Voices from Charlotte, NC
(Charlotte Center for Literary Arts, Inc., 2019).
Used here with permission.