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AMATEURS
A backyard astronomer charts two new supernovas
in one night. A janitor at MIT solves in an hour
a math problem that's stumped the faculty for years.
So what if that was in a movie? It could happen.
Gregor Mendel was a monk; John Priestly, a minister.
Charles Darwin studied medicine and ministry
before he clumped aboard The Beagle. Einstein
was a patent clerk. And how about sports?
Forget the agents fluffing athletes like prize poodles.
Forget mega-contracts with incentives actually
to play. While product endorsements are thin
clouds on the horizon, watch (between commercials)
virgins who've barely been tongue-kissed by fame
perform Olympian feats for fun, excitement, love.
Consider us: uninstructed in tantric sex, innocent
of psychotherapy. How fearlessly you explore
my steppes, jungles, valleys, and peaks.
Night after night, I chart the galaxies inside your eyes.
You discover the mechanics of my breath,
the calculus of my heart accelerated by your kiss.
Daily we find new tonics and miracle cures.
We break thermodynamic's laws, out-muscle
biochemistry's tightest bonds. We speedboat off
the edge of the known world, and it extends beneath us
even while, as lovers always have, we fly.
"Amateurs" reprinted courtesy of Red Hen Press.
"Amateurs" originally appeared in Amplified Dog.
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