Ode to Friction

Part of me is a monster
on the run, and the rest
hiding, hoping.  There are a million
little places inside me, at least,
and most of them are
dying the same instant
they are
growing.

They keep becoming each other.

It's the collision.  The bump on the butt
of the door that keeps
opening wider.  The shrink and
curl of time. The accidents
upon accidents upon
accidents.

Smack a monster,
and he comes back stronger, so
maybe let it run.  The antenna is said
to collide with the leaf.  Each brush
of its fur against a blade
of grass is a collision, but
all interactions between a star
and its planets (and a planet
and its satellites) are
perfectly elastic.  Maybe
learn this and let
each object
sort you
like an atom.

It is not possible
to play it safe,
but you can feel
every rub
and let it
fall.