Dear Friends,

I found this poem in my files, written one recent fall day, thought you might enjoy it: 


Who am I?

1.33*1050 atoms in this world
always shifting
which atoms are Me now?

During our conversation,
I give you the gift of a few thousand of My atoms,
And you return the favor.

While sitting on the couch, some of me rubs off,
And some of the former inhabitants of this couch
Are what I now call Me.

While writing this, my computer and I have had atom sex,
And the fan is depositing this beautiful fall day onto my skin,
And into my face
through my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth
I taste falling leaves.

When I scratch, Myself goes everywhere,
a little landing on the coffee table,
where it will wait for the fan to blow it out to the world
filling it with so much of Me.


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