The Young Experiment
In dating and quantum mechanics,
a sure thing is no thing at all.
Examined, possibilities collapse: one brilliant
array of electron collision
reduced, sweetheart, like my highschool
shiksa drinkin’ whiskey downstairs
on the couch, lips curled,
saying she could unstitch every inch
of an ear with her tongue or more in the way
physicists might say theta sub x theta sub p’s
greater than/equal to an h-bar over two,
like the way that we giggled, the way that we broke
up to every Alphabet City rooftop
where we didn’t have one damn word to say,
staring at those greasy stars. It’s inevitable
how certain I am every time
she’s the one – the sum
of two bands – the way we are always
made from something certain until
I look too close.
About the Writer
Sam Preminger writes poems because they help him think and he hopes they might make someone smile or feel less alone. His writing has previously appeared in Event Horizon, Yes, Poetry, and many lost notebooks. He is currently an MFA-candidate at Pacific University and lives in Portland, OR. For further information, please visit his website.