And I have lost some kindness, but I was a girl too. And you were just like me, and I was just like you. Dar Williams “When I was a Boy”

I am not from here, that’s for sure. I wish I were because then I wouldn’t have to think.

Name’s Steve. Not Steven or Stephon. Steve. One syllable, one punch and you’re on the ground. I do things one time and you should know that about me up front.

I am from the hood. In Philadelphia. Wait, I wanted to be from the hood. I would be tougher. I could be a success story - they will say, “He got out. Steve beat the hood, but he never forgot where he came from.” Wait, I am not Steve. I wanted to be Steve because Steve was the oldest one on the block and he could hit a pimple ball past the cul-de-sac that we grew up on. And when I played basketball by myself, Steve was always on my team and he knew to get me the ball with six seconds left. The truth is my parents moved to a block outside the city in the town of Neshaminy. I am from the Neshaminy Mall, I swear I was born there cause my mother knew it like her womb. She knew where to buy me pants. One time she zipped me up and the zipper caught – there was a mirror that said so - and all of the sudden we both wanted to go home.

But you can call me Steve. Or Spike. I like Spike. One time I drew a dog with a spiked collar and wrote above his picture, “Spike.” That wasn’t too long ago. So you can call me Spike.

Hold on, I have to make a phone call. Ah, yes, do you have Prince Albert in the can. No? Oh. Okay. Thank you.

Anyways, I thought I was from here until my parents joked that the only reason they would never divorce was because neither wanted the kids. I tried to write that exchange in a play once, when my name was Too Cocky and Insecure For His Own Good, but the actors just couldn’t get it right. So we had to get rid of the line instead of the actors. Well, the actors would cry, the line wouldn’t. Process of elimination.

So then I am from my dad’s pen that went dry from responsibility. I am from word school. And my father passed his name on to me like he passed wind. So I am Dada, one time I was Momma. Often I am oatmeal. I am never and have never been the nipple of life. The best is when I am the punch line because my son, a toddler now, is putting toys into the holes in his ears and nose and the other holes he has on his body and the sound of his laughter makes me forget where I came from. It sits me down. My name is Sits-Me-Down, from a village I never thought I’d find.

Actually, I am from a smokier place – my mother’s swollen belly. The womb was the smoking section because the Surgeon General had yet to create the skull and cross-bones. When I cough, even today, my mother thinks I have the hiccups.

Name’s John, and as you can see, I am very tall. The ladies call me Big Fingers if you know what I mean. But hey, don’t get intimidated. I am as gentle, ladies, as a tall drink of water. My middle name is Hoooooward. I used to hate it because I thought it was a fat person’s name, but now the ladies remind me that I can’t and shouldn’t hide a thing if you know where I’m a comin’ from. Hey now. I shoot from the hip ladies because as tall as I am that’s the only way we can see eye to eye.

If you must know, I am definitely from infinity. One time my sisters and I counted that high because we were in the mall and bored. If I haven’t introduced myself, let me do so now: My brother is Moses. Nice to meet you.

You could say I am from my children and they are from me, but we haven’t the time because the one can’t hold her milk and the other won’t drink any and Elmo is on the phone. Speaking of, do you have Prince Albert in the can? Oh, well, keep him there, don’t let him out, but punch some holes in the lid and place him in room temperature please. Do this and we can all go to heaven. Finally.

The paparazzi found my bio: Aaron Levy will swim in your pool when you are not home and if he has to pee, so be it. He will eat your food and steal your poetry. If you let him, Aaron Levy will talk about himself in third person all day and all night, “Aaron Levy is a good man, a proud man, a generous man.” If you really want to know him, shut the lights off because he is scared of his own shadow.

Wait, no wait. The truth is a little bleaker and you paid good money for it. I am from a place where people are trying to forget, a place that some say never happened. I am from the bones full of gas. I am under the piles of my people in awkwardly dug graves in the camps. I think somebody here is still alive, and when the time is right he will swim up-stream through the current of death and the free and he will look for some shoes. Someday, I hope he writes a book. My name is Aaron Howard Levy. I am from too much history and there’s too much history in me. Now, when I watch tattoos too-and-fro on the smalls of the backs of young co-eds on their cell phones, I think about the yellow brandings and the star of David.

Aaron Levy

Aaron Levy teaches English at Kennesaw State University.