Under the Microscope
In the right light, and from
the right distance, anyone
can look good. Vivian Leigh
at the barbeque would be jealous
of you when you put on a little
mascara, dim the lights,
and take a picture of the mirror
fifteen feet away.
But under the microscope,
that baby cute skin is a carrier
for corruption and staph infection
no matter how many times
you’ve Germ-Xd your hands.
In the hospital, the air is kept cool
to slow down molecules
and thus to minimize the damage
you might do to yourself and others.
We sit together, only a mocha latte,
a blueberry muffin, and a billion
molecules of disease separating us
as we attempt to make
each other believe we matter.
If we heat our words with coffee,
does that mean they move faster,
reducing the risk we’ll dissect
for the ugly minutia
attached to our lives
inevitably, involuntarily
along the way?
