Take the pause between these
two sentences. Grind it up.
Roll it in a twenty-dollar bill
and ignite. Smear the ashes on
a microscope slide and
discover the following: three
apostrophe fragments, seven
remembrances of a dairy farm,
trace amounts of ballpoint pen,
single molecule from a Mexican triceratops.
So much where in the whereabouts,
it’s amazing we can even
get to the checkout stand,
atoms shuffling past like
shoppers in a mall.
It is entirely possible that part of
my left pinky originated at the
midpoint between Castor and Pollux.
It is entirely possible that
I am making this up.