There is nothing in the rules that says that time must flow,
in line and order, rhyme and reason

That we must have regrets
not be able to fix our mistakes

Newton, Einstein, Schrodinger the lot
Didn't give a toss for time

Cause and effect fluid with respect
to who or what is looking.

According to them my love would cause
you in effect to return to me

At least there could be a universe
where you decided differently

And I could know that part of my wavefunction
was content and whole

But Boltzmann was a bastard.
I must accept the loss

And that between us now exists
some Pauli-like exclusion principle

by me

You found a quantum oscillation in the middle of our bed, almost like potential wells had sprung up in between us. You said they marked the ground with landmines that our words could get sucked into.

"A quantum oscillation?!" I cried in disbelief, impatient with your dreaming. I tried to say "That's nothing!" but the walls of those potential wells were slowly slowly growing.

"Look, that quark is changing flavor! You see, it's spreading like a tumor." You pointed to the increase, and you showed it as a sign. I laid back down to sleep and said it'd go away with time.

So many things I ignored in our bed. I wonder why the smallest of them came back to haunt me.

You crept away in fear, and backed away from the ever widening gap. I didn't listen to your pleas, and slept in my idea that fluctuations on that scale were meaningless.

Wasn't I surprised to see the vortex that had crept up by the time the dawn had come?

"See? See what uncertainty can do?" Your words were lost already though, the winds of the swimming particles too loud to let them through. You waved your hands to get my attention, but before I knew, you'd tunneled from my life.

How did you know something so small as a quantum oscillation could mean the end?

I watched but couldn't catch you.

I realized at one point just how quickly you were slipping, and I made my move to follow but then lost sight of your position. I almost found you once but in that instant you hit c. I think I saw you once, just to the right of Mercury, heading toward the sun. But by then it was too late and this infinite potential well had eaten up our bed.

There's nothing left, but I still can't tunnel out.

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