My Origins

I an from motor oil, the busy garage workshop,
and the smell of gasoline. I´m from the Black & Decker toolkit,
and the sounds of sports engines, and tinkering in the morning.

From the choking dust of construction, and blisters even in gloved hands,
and also from the cool, air-conditioned executive office.

From the backyard gardens, and the tall, wavy palms that rustle in the wind. I´m from the spiky turf that digs into your back when you lie and stare at the sky, and I´m from the sound of dogs barking, and happy panting.

I´m from Fridays at the movies, and texted advice. I´m from Saturday labor, and lazy Sundays. From the coffee and Formula 1 races in the morning.
¨From hot-headedness, and cold calculation. I´m from ¨clean up your mess¨ and ¨think out your actions¨
I´m from tropical rain on the roof, and hot, windless Italian nights

I am the steel girder, holding up the roof.
I am the palm tree, waving in the breeze.
I´m the race car, not speeding through, but cruising past the curves.