If you were one of the elements,
I’d be among the stars.
If you were a Bunsen burner,
I’d live in a drawer
with the other pipettes.

If you held forth on
xylem and phloem,
I’d be in the lecture on
thermodynamics or
nuclear fission.

Maybe we’ll meet
in a textbook somewhere,
maybe on a quiet shelf,
breathe the papery air
and feel complete.