Looking to the river, melting with the rain,
dreaming of the seaside where all waters meet again,
trying to congeal, hoping to be solid,
but my runny-skinned body can’t
stay discrete for long.
Looking to the river, thinking of the molecules,
Do they really touch? Do they simply jostle?
Do they have their favorite friends or
do they simply flow?
Do the tiny components ever
wonder where they must go?