I daydreamt that a physicist
working in obscurity
under a blinding desk lamp
finally untangled the secret of gravity
and immediately this unlocking switched it off.
The safe surfaces of tables canted,
objects skidded sideways and lifted off.
My book began to ease away
and then I did, too. We drifted
together down the hallway.
Without gravity, planes turn to spheres,
there is no up, no down —
everything is a circle.
I am a planet encircling your sun.
another american childhood 