Re-gifting as a Problem in Quantum Mechanics
With Christmas coming, friends re-gift to us
A box of pastries with a tartan bow.
They’re dieting and feeling generous:
The treats have sugar, cream, and filo dough.
Though pained, we view the case as relative.
Our friends behave, we say, like light behaves:
They simultaneously receive and give,
As light acts both as particles and waves.
The pastries, too, present a paradox.
They’re kin to Schrödinger’s dead/living cat.
Until—unless—we open up the box,
We can’t say that their state is this or that.
They might be flaky or as dense as paste.
They might be finger food or call for forks.
We might, experimentally nibbling, taste
The flavors of their leptons and their quarks.
To re-re-gift them would be inhumane.
They’ve been rejected once; rejection hurts.
If we digest them, they might help us gain
A unified field theory of desserts.
Best lift the lid and see the problem through.
The same laws govern physics and nutrition:
You cannot have your cake and eat it, too,
Or gauge both its momentum and position.
Best welcome any gift that causes thought
(Which travels faster than the speed of light)
About the mysteries of matter, not
To mention those of human appetite.
War and Peace
Peace is boring, war is hell.
André is clobbered by a shell.
Natasha—grieving, in despair—
Weds waiting-in-the-wings Pierre
And is fulfilled by motherhood.
The End. (The writing’s rather good.)