The Scientist’s Advantage

I can barely grasp a quark
much less the six flavors
given them by the physicists—
their supercolliders seem
such an unfair advantage
to my thoughts
constantly missing each other,
not bound or attracted
to any central core.
I wonder though,
if my words did react
to gravity,
or any other physic law,
would I start a poem
towards infinite density?

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