I was listening to a sound I had heard before:
my neuroses approaching the chalkboard of my mind
and writing down all the things that could possibly go wrong,
each miscalculation, misfiring of best intentions,
the regret felt at saying the wrong thing
the regret felt at not saying anything at all.

My logical mind intercedes and kicks my neuroses squarely in the ass.
She gingerly erases the chalkboard
and then claps the erasers together
with the grace of a ballerina,
en pointe,
chalk dust exploding
into a symphony
of plausibility.