It’s because of money that we know time, too, comes in measurable units. In the same coin you can have suns & seeds of millet, atoms in their molecules not exactly dancing, footprints of giant millipedes—a small universe designed to frustrate anyone with arithmomania. You and I might find ourselves on opposite sides, a Janus. Every time you shake your head, mine nods, & when I rock with laughter it makes you seasick. Less like reflection, then, than echoing, this give-&-take, because with each pass there’s a little less. Modularity had something to do with it once, but now the coin is its own metal. The decorative columns might as well go back to being trunks; soon our clearing will be nothing but a stifled yawn.

See the response by Rachel Rawlins, “Fruit.”

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9 Replies to “Exchange”

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