(*This is part of a series of poems I wrote about quantum physics concepts.)


It is difficult to imagine I can be loved— I,

Not your kind one, nor your


Is not a word in our dictionary.

Not in our game, not our well-staged


The odds. It is exciting not to know

How you feel, to leave it up to cryptic notes

And the enigma in your glance.


Strange to think you could be feeling infinitely


Of us walk unawares in this world, where

Noncommittal particles decide to tease us instead

With patterns that stripe the wall in defiance,

As simple as a small thing or a


Actuality goodbye.


Because if something can be in infinitely many places at


I questioned how I could possibly


Is all I am

Is all you are.

There is no anomaly in our cognition.


But with it, I can observe the particle


There must be a place where I never find out.

But here, I observe how your pulse quickens,

And now we are locked in this narrative, in this


Things have the freedom of isolation.

So if I was somehow a small and simple enough

Thing, I could at once be in love with you and

Not— your heart, like the cat, at once broken and