I am a simple degree of difference
from the next man on the bus, a cough
from an allergy not yet in season.
The wind bears in equanimity the change
from one to the next. I matter only
as a random number generator,
an algorithm which beats a time
faster than we can imagine alone.
We hold to the nuance to identify
who we are to ourselves. I am alone
in this colony: as if bacteria in a dish
can differentiate the glass walls;
as if the language I speak to you
can convey an understanding of love.
(May 30, 2016)
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