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Passing
Freedom by Ken
Shiovitz For Cells, Gels, and Gerald Pollack Driving ferociously down the urban freeway, We pass plodding carloads of capitulated passengers, Daydreaming of distant vacations, encapsulated, Barely conscious of speed limits and lurking patrol cars. They are marking their way to work or to visit mother, Changing lanes in a carefully controlled manner, Neither travelling too fast nor noticeably lagging traffic, Proud of the right to be free, while driving in preformed
grooves. As therapy, the act of speeding has its drawbacks, Evidenced dramatically by the destroyed sports car, Former shiny red Italian symbol of individuality, Now walnut, cracked open around unforgiving lamppost. Our car slows to conform, with the inevitability of a
sneeze, While inside, insecure opinions flip between two
conformational states, That enduring peace arises only from political compromise,
and That unchecked, people have the capacity to continue
killing, even millions. Speeding up, the armor of our SUV steels support for
another theory, That with burglar alarm and rod-buttressed doors, frame and
roll bars, One would need a tremendous amount of energy to really
threaten us, But as we hit 94, we pass a smashed Ford Explorer on the
shoulder of the road. Again, our car slows to conform, plodding along tired tread
marks, Providing no citadel or stone walled storehouse, no Maginot
Line, Frankly defining the face of our freedom by the forces of
nature, We are water molecules locked in the gel of wondrous
cytoplasm. And like the cell, we depend for security and survival on
phase transitions, Changes that permit free movement, until those very
movements cause change, Dramatically returning to configurations that exclude and
attract selectively, A never-ending cycle of the feather and the sword. |
