by Michael Kulp
The physicists swear
That everything is in motion.
And not just waves and toddlers
And over-caffeinated commuters,
But my own atoms are fizzing
With quantum fluctuations.
And who can tell if a
Subatomic particle in
A dendrite somewhere
Deep in my electric brain
Suddenly slips into
Another universe, peeling
Off the DNA chain, breaking
Links and popping rivets
With its sudden absence?
Would I even be aware
That this sideways step of
A churning universe
Is the one little yank
That derails the crucial
Brain pulse that forever
Prevents a perfect memory
Of my first perfect kiss?