Deep at night, when hyenas start slinking    about my skull and dishes start breaking in the porcelain sink of memory, when a cold wind sets a trash can lid dancing down Brook St., I       begin to dream, and the dreams come like beads strung on a necklace that is way too tight. So I can't explain why Grandma Sarah showed up, uninvited,      during a visit to Grandma Bessie's. I don't know why we needed to take our Ho Chi Minh poster with us on trips and tack it up in every room we happened      to be staying in. And I don't know why I hit that car and kept going, then drove the wrong way down a  steep ramp to the highway (before       Sandy took over and backed us out). I don't know why any of this happened, but I do know I was slipping on the rock face of an Adirondack     slope I once climbed and swinging way too high in the playground at Van Cortlandt Park. What I knew is that       I was falling. School starting in two days, my 32nd year. September 5, 2004

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