A message from my mitochondria

He is constantly shluffing off skin cells. New ones grow back. He visits Fantastic Sam's once a month to have his hair cut. He's got some new scars. His stomach is eating itself even as we speak. In the past year his eyes have regrown themselves about 120 times. His liver will take the next six weeks to fold itself inside and out and inside its envelope will be a new liver in the shape of an envelope.

And on, and on until seven years from now he'll have a completely new body. New eyes (to the nth generation), new blood, new bone marrow, new bladder, new epididymis, new asshole, new cerebellum.

Which means that the person you know way back when? The one you keep trying to contact? He no longer exists.

Yeah, you think you sat next to him on the #17 bus this morning. He got on at the same intersection you dropped him off at the last time you saw him. That knee pressing against yours felt just like his knee. If he would have spoken to you he would have sounded the same.

But I assure you its a new person. He no longer knows you. He's not him; he doesn't owe you anything--no explanation, not even a nod. He doesn't give a shit about you. You are talking to him and he's looking at you like you are a total stranger. Because you are. And he is to you. You are speaking crazy-talk. The way you keep repeating things, do you have tourettes? Are you asking for money? Is that why you are holding out your hand?

He is looking at you like he pities you completely. He pulls the yellow cord to ding the driver, who slows the bus at this amazingly beautiful intersection. He is getting off the bus to buy some flowers for a boy, or maybe to go read a book by the river, or maybe he's just trying to get away from you.

Sorry, he's gone now in the crowds.

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