“Who am I when I’m alone?”
Hm. I flinched at the question.
I was surprised. Not sure if
surprised at the question,
or at the answer. Probably
at the lack of the answer.
Who am I when I’m alone?
Who am I most of the time?
Am I different? Am I the same?
Who am I, at all?
I realized I took too long to answer.
I guess that answers for me.
Anyway, I still said,
“I’m somewhere between
the sea bottom and the surface.
I’m not something, I’m at something—
here and there,
halfway or beneath,
at some point or not there at all.

I’m a place,
and I am my favorite place.”