In that murky time between awake
and asleep, when rational mind
lets go but subconscious does not
yet take over, I find myself floating

on memories. First best friend,
the fake pond the park service 
poured behind our houses, skating
into the early northern darkness. 

Or my first days living in a foreign
language, when the French I thought 
I knew deserted me, left me wordless
and humble, a long way from home.