Quantum Apple I ate a quantum apple last night while singing in my sleep, And was awakened by the thunder, thundering from the streets. All colors of crayons protesting in the stifling summer heat, Melting on the sidewalks, art imitating life, life just looking for something to eat. “Have a bite of my apple,” I said, but got no reply. Made sense since a quantum apple has no properties to try, Until one chomps the skin, the flesh, the juicy inner thighs, Only then will my apple come alive. The melted crayons spread gracefully below, Into a picture of dragons, in an apple grove. Whatever change they sought from society, whatever woe, Just another Joan of Arc, a mist in the greater flow. The sun unzipped the night, as I have come to expect, Children with no shoes rustled down the steps. I rubbed my eyes from REM dust and A world without cause or effect. Time and space struggled to connect. I brushed my teeth and razed my neck. I walked downstairs, turned on my TV set. Went to the kitchen, opened a cabinet. Out tumbled one thousand apples, yet, I couldn’t remember why I was who I am.