The Brownian rotor bobbed and went.
It had a little confidence.
We were testing it in the kettle after 45 minutes.
(We only got the kettle so that we could have tea
in the middle and then so reach an accord,
but now we’ve found this other use for it, so—)
Rry, the little paddle of the rotor started swinging around
like it was making, or at least gathering, a memory.
When it’s 100° in the water, there’s a separation of concerns.
After 45 minutes, it’s more confusing than that —
I’m not sure if
We can hear the atoms falling, inside and overhead.
A user in place just bought this kettle.
The leaves swim and catch in the sawteeth of the rotor.
We move in a minor way to dislodge them and help it along.
Thinking of ourselves moving on a three-dimensional conveyor belt,
Some tea does the bit where you walk backwards and upwards to stay in place.
You open the lid, a small door, and the heat comes out.
The room becomes a bit warmer or is rotated 90°. I can’t say.
We are bending the results, of course.
It’ll rain here in a million years
so we know that the test will act up, unfathoming,
but anyway something catches in my lungs together:
the rotor hops a turnstile as I take a breath.
A column in a query rehydrates some things.