The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts

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POTW #718
(Week of 7 March, 2010)
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Physicists in the audience may be tempted to argue about the hum, the color, and the guarantee. To which I say: Quiet, you. It's poetry!

Certain Doom at the Coffee Shop

Entropy is at work on me
I evaporate inevitably
We all have a gradual wasting disease
And so do the rocks and the roads and the breeze

Our skin falls off and it turns into dust
Erosion, abrasion, persuasion and rust
Deteriorating as everything must
In perishability we trust

Entropy is at work on my chair
Straight from the forest awaiting repair
Less and less sturdy and less and less square
Caveat sessor: the sitter beware

Stars use up more of their fuel every day
Galaxies wilt like exhausted bouquets
Particles fizzle and photons decay
Until all that is left is a uniform grey

The heat death of the universe comes
When every last cookie has crumbled to crumbs
The singular sound a homogenous hum
A durable infinite ocean of numb

There's a good bit of time 'til the Earth is consumed
Until all of the cosmos is running on fumes
But the heat death of my coffee looms
The cup becomes tepid too terribly soon
I'm hoping to drink it ahead of this doom

Entropy is at work on me
And my metaphor philosophy
But at least it treats us equally
Proletariat, bourgeoisie
Me and the bees and the birds and the trees
My drink and my laptop battery
Which I guess is as fair as fair can be
We'll all be grey eventually
Guaranteed

Copyright © 2010 by Dave Grossman

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