Science  Write  Now

And if we are but a collective hunch

the only fundamentalist is Science.

 

I just drank my coffee. 

Before that I put some milk in it.

So now I am all who I was before I drank my coffee with milk in it plus that coffee and that milk. 

One hour ago, part of me was in a carton in the refrigerator.

Another part was waiting to be ground.

Last week I sat in the grocery store.

The day before that I rode on a truck.

Last season I was sweating on a bush in Brazil till I was picked with other black beans—you always knew I was part black—or settling in a cow on an upstate farm—you always knew I was part white.

Before that I grew up out of the ground, green and fresh, yet so upright, waiting to be gnawed and chewed and digested a few times.

Green, white, black, we’ve all been many colors.

And before that I lay underground as grains of soil that fed the grass.

At the very same time, I was floating in the sky before the rain when I fell to quench the soil that fed the grass that became the milk in the cow which I’ve now drunk in my coffee from Brazil.

And I at last have become this me who will never be the one I was before I drank the coffee with milk from the bush in Brazil and the cow on the farm upstate.

 

And, as I breathe, in a hundred years, a thousand, a hundred thousand, or a thousand thousand,

whatever this might mean in thought and deed,

I shall be everywhere, and everything, and everyone

 

just like you

 

again.