Is the Bug With Me?

There’s just a lot of shit I wish I’d paid closer attention to. I know, in the end, we’re all made up of atoms that are held together by… I don’t know… masking tape? But today, when I was walking the dog, I squashed a bug on my forehead. Like disgustingly mashed it against my skin.

And then I wondered, how many of the atoms from that bug are now in my forehead?

Am I a mosaic of everyone who’s ever rubbed up on me? Are the dog and I sitting here now, him on the floor, his butt resting on my shoe, with atoms drifting between us?

How long would we have to sit next to each other to be fully intermixed?

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2 thoughts on “Is the Bug With Me?

  1. It’s also good that some folks not willing to engage in direct action are supporting these activists with unequivocal moral support and with material support for the inevitable legal entanglements. Now we need more elected officials to go beyond mushy rhetoric and step up unequivocally both for the activists and against state-sponsored displays of Jim Crow-era canonization of white supremacist icons.

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