Spooky action at a distance – Albert Einstein

Born in the lab, we left
            shooting the curl
                        of probability, spinning
            in every direction at once.
Or so they say.

I’ve always been left-handed—
            that’s how it feels, but maybe
                        my twin’s right hand reached out
            to snatch a passing cocktail
and fixed my fate.

When I bought Abbey Road,
            did I condemn her
                        to a lifetime of Rolling Stones?
            Did she think it was her own
free choice?

Knowing we’ll never be
            cut loose, knowing that nothing
                        I do can ever not matter—
                                    it’s like believing in God,
                        or else being a god,
            a small-time deity
with a bad broadband connection.

And what about our loves?
            Other halves of other
                        halves, they are two shoes tied
            to opposite ends of a Slinky,
cranky dictators of two
            former Soviet republics,
                        surgeons who try in vain
            to cut the same tumor from
two different bodies.

Roy White is a blind person who lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota, with a lovely woman and a handsome dog. His poems and essays have appeared in BOAAT Journal, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, The Lascaux Review and elsewhere, and he blogs at https://lippenheimer.wordpress.com.

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