When you're beside yourself a bit,
your brain not quite in line inside your head
but not quite parallel, either,
and the atmosphere is so, so close
to being perfect
It's like trying to flick a speck off your arm before realizing
it's not some foreign fleck of dust settled there
but a scab, a part of your own body healing itself.
Like watching a lake in Spring
slowly dissolve its wintered ice into frigid water,
the hot sun overhead burning your skin while you try to figure out
just what time it is; how safe it might be to venture out
on the gray, waterlogged mass.