╖My intuition said, "of course, of course," while my heart did not dare to believe such a thing.
I had to test it for myself.
Are cups and bowls not meant for holding?
Why, then, was I scolded into writing in neat, straight lines?
I was, perhaps, thirteen when I first learned of
entropy.
The universe itself defies order?
in my favorite I SPY books, I searched for a sign of this randomness, of a descent into chaos on the still page
but all I saw was meticulously ordered disorder. a pale imitation of the real thing.
I imagined kicking everything away like an angry giantess, to show them what a real mess is
i saw
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𝝨
uᴉɥʇᴉʍ
only to smash them and watch their twin parents Time and Energy react with gravity to tear them apart
i feverishly assembled legos into haphazard vehicles, sculptures, people
the universe is on my side, with its spilt milk and jpeg artifacts and messy slurped-up ramen and boiled-over pasta water and air bubbles in yeasty bread and spray of freckles on my best friend's face
i plucked a rock from the bank
it was striated with a million billion years of older rock squashed together that had probably been tired of rolling and tumbling long before anybody was around to think about how it felt
and chucked it in
at last, quiet, pensive, reverent, i wandered to a stream behind my house
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