I used to dream of floating. 
A jump and gravity disappeared. 
I hung over trees, over cities, 
floated over all the places I know,
with all the thrill of a roller coaster
on the way back down. 

Around here, someone says
“I’m going for a float,” and
conjures up images of inner tubes, 
sunglasses and a bottle of beer at the lake.

When I say I’m going for a float, 
I mean earplugs and a thousand pounds
of Epsom salts in a pool.
No lights, but I like music. 
I can feel it vibrate in my toes.

There’s a hundred shades of dark
I don’t see until I’m floating.
Gravity suspended, my thoughts
suspended, my body suspended.
Everything comes to a halt.
All the noise fades away.

Just let me float.