Route 7 Review - Page 56

And Another Thing BY Zachary Kluckman Your tongue is smarter than you. Shut up. While your knees attempt to convince your mind life consists of being hinged -­­ or -- unhinged ­­ it is earning a degree in telemetry. Convinced language is an expression of time, short­-burst wavelengths almost spark light with their collisions. Like them, our atoms inevitably meet. Are we transformed by the intercession of particles? If the old adage is true, every breath draws into us the DNA of dinosaurs, Lincoln’s beard, every human whose ash has touched the earth. The architects of the Nazca lines. The first harvester of dragonfruit now seeds our family tree. The legend of the mandrake roots us to shared histories, fears older than government. Picture this skin painted with the last breath of DaVinci. From the top of Everest, the salt­-wet of Hillary’s tears plummets to the pulse beneath our wrists. We are immortal at the atomic level. Touched continuously by the past, our skin is flypaper for ghosts. The dead and the living swim in the sweat above your lip. If you’re a germaphobe, I’m sorry. But you have tasted life, literally. What’s left to fear? When you wish a kiss, the afterglow, this moment could last forever it does.