of the word ‘normal’

Amy Gerstler teases at me from the lines of her poem this morning


I think I like that word but 


what is that


My normal speaks to stories and places and populations and environments not yet being

yet in my head living so real

so alive and vibrant  -sometimes

in my so-much-alone time

I can feel their breath on my cheek and hear their voice in my ear

and even

when it’s been very many long and busy and ‘successful’ days

when people who do exist and can actually really oh so normally speak into my ear

and on occasion brush my cheek even  -on these days they can be sometimes more alive

and more real and more persistent


tugging at my hem

than that hand that sweeps the smudge of paint or dirt or wonder from my face