perhaps the apple obeying gravity
just enjoys being its applish self.
perhaps the boring consistency
of lunar eclipses and planets' ellipses
are just the marks of mature identity
of rocks that know what they are.

the universe is real. am I?
I never stop falling in gravity
but I can't calculate falling in love.
maybe what you call my spirit or me
is just my humanity being unreal enough
to make my inconsistencies recognizably
funny, to your unreality.