Me and 23
They argue like I'm some mixed breed,
made-up designer dog
a backyard breeder sold
for cigarette money.
My mother said I was French
because she thought Cajuns
were a kind of Parisian
misplaced in Louisiana.
My father said we got our temper
from the Scottish,
our size from the Dutch.
They’d like me to spit in a tube
to satisfy their curiosity
and settle the argument,
but cilantro already tastes like dish soap
and cerebral palsy doesn’t always have markers.
I don’t want to find out
I have a sister working
at a Waffle House,
that I’m an uncle of four boys
with my smirk
and double-jointed fingers,
or that I was switched at birth
and am something else entirely.
I’m afraid to open the box,
spit in the tube.
They argue like I'm some mixed breed,
made-up designer dog
a backyard breeder sold
for cigarette money.
My mother said I was French
because she thought Cajuns
were a kind of Parisian
misplaced in Louisiana.
My father said we got our temper
from the Scottish,
our size from the Dutch.
They’d like me to spit in a tube
to satisfy their curiosity
and settle the argument,
but cilantro already tastes like dish soap
and cerebral palsy doesn’t always have markers.
I don’t want to find out
I have a sister working
at a Waffle House,
that I’m an uncle of four boys
with my smirk
and double-jointed fingers,
or that I was switched at birth
and am something else entirely.
I’m afraid to open the box,
spit in the tube.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson