When my shadow broke from me, cast out, misshapen,
I prayed for a mold to make me right,
placed faith in an average that could dull such extremes,
a chameleon’s tone concealing everything unique.

There was a moment in the car 
when we were driving down to the lake,
you read poetry aloud from a book I kept in the console,
I think we found it then, 
it touched us for an instant
as we engaged in a place we never reached before.

It wasn’t normal, but perhaps was the idea 
of how I thought normal might feel.