Love Life of the Electron
Who doesn’t want spooky action at a distance? Lucky electron gets tickled and quakes in time to some vastly other electron well across the void.
H-e-l-l-o-o the two mirror-mime letter for letter without apparent cause.
The electron grants that this is what humans call cosmic. Another day another endless uncanny correlation, the electron despairs.
What does it matter, infinite soul-mating of mattering, what when you don’t experience Entanglement personally
even if physically—because ok, particularly, there is a tug, a turn on your head, worlds standing still to go the other way and way out there a sensed straddling of an ushering
wave, which could also be a pinch, right on the bottom, direct as uninter-
erupted daylight, and you, you spinning, spinning like a stranger who is like you
but so? Soul mates are made redundant with everything reduced to so much union. Chemistry arbitrary. Star-crossed humdrum.
The electron is a romantic, admittedly. Spins fantasies of meeting an other where no detectable connection exists. No common meant to be, no cosmic silly string
hitching your wave length to some other wave length inter-spaced through all inter-time—no. No cinch of constellations. Only promise of difference, with its phantom tingle of fathomless
parting and rush of no physics to hold you.
In this dream, the electron calls down the anechoic wishing well of the void, where, if anything in all the world answers, it is because it chose.
Brooke Larson is a writer, collagist, and sometimes wilderness guide. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia University, and is currently a PhD student in English at the University of Louisiana. Her poems, essays, and art have recently appeared in Foothill Journal, Split Lip Magazine, The Swamp, Split Rock Review, Timber, and The Journal of Creative Geography. The "stoned ape theory" is her favorite rebel origin story of human consciousness.