On my commute to work
the thin piece of meat just
under my tongue did snap.
It’s hard to dust yourself
off and lick your wounds
when they’re in your mouth.
On my commute to work
I remembered physics exists
I remembered quantum theory.
I closed my eyes on the road
and released the steering wheel
to live my own experiment.
If I’m not watching the road now
am I still a pretty girl with a 9 to 5?
Where am I when I’m away?
I’m going to be a female woman,
employed by the US government.
I deliver love letters, no bill.
Sorry, my mind is wandering.
Closed eyes, cool air from windows
rolled down has me feeling sleepy.
I thought about object permanence.
Maybe physicists never bothered.
Paper bag over Steven Hawking’s head.
I never opened my eyes again
I might have opened my mouth.
I made it to work with a soft tongue.