Astral Science

His world made of almost nothing and nothing,

of spooky superstrings

in the ten-dimensional space,

strangeness, color, spin, and charm--

yet when he has a toothache,

the cosmologist;

when, in Saint Moritz,

he is flying down the piste;

when eating potato salad

or cohabiting with a lady

who doesn't believe in bosons;

when he's dying,

then the mathematical myths

evaporate, the equations fuse

and he returns from his beyond

to this our world

made of pain, snow, lust,

of potato salad and death.

Copyright World poesy Incorporated Jan/Feb 2001

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