POEM #8
When in Paris, everyone goes to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. So of course, that was me. It's funny seeing something in person that you've already seen so many times through a screen. What's the difference? She was much smaller and it was so much more crowded. I tested the Mona Lisa eyes, walking from one side of the room to the other. (Spoiler: yep, she’s still got it.) I don't know what is holy and real but I felt something looking at something so many other people have seen. The double-slit theory is a physics experiment that reveals something strange: being observed changes how the universe behaves. How can electrons be conscious? Does reality depend on the viewer? I found myself losing sense of what is real, but when what was real turns out to be fake, then that’s a pretty important/wonderful thing to lose. (Spoiler #2: yep, I gained.)
More poems like this