Of course, Poeta, you have heard
the one about light as a particle
and a wave — how two photons
from the same wave function
remain entangled at a distance
like the outer edges of a ripple spreading
from a pebble thrown into a pond —
synchronous dancers leaping
to the same silent heartsong.
We were scientists with a secret
that we were writers with a secret
that we were scientists — heads
or tails, you and I flip our coins,
spooky action at a distance, as one.