Body Language

Bodies are so strange.
Why am I standing here,
Displacing these air molecules,
And not over there?
If I moved three steps forward,
I would be run over by that bus,
And my body would be a pile of bones and meat.
My brain takes up as much space
As a loaf of bread,
Yet, I couldn't think very clearly
With a skull full of pumpernickel.
My eyes are the same size as egg yolks,
Yet, a hard-boiled egg
Can't make wrinkles and wiggles of light
Into 3D moving pictures.
Bodies are so strange.
Why am I this collection of fluids and tissue?
I could just as easily be
A tree, thinking slow, wooden tree-thoughts,
A slab of rock jutting from a hill,
Or a stalk of celery,
Livening up someone's tuna salad.

David W. Aronson