A Theory of Molecular Complementarity
Running together in the early morning, it feels like we’re an evenly matched pair of carriage horses, our sneaker-shod feet hitting the pavement in unison left right left right easy-does-it left right. Truth is, I run better with him than by myself, to a swifter pace, over a greater distance. Something about his matter-of-fact lope keeps me from questioning each moment of exertion—hard to do, in any case, as he explains again how one molecule fits its opposite, like a key to its lock, a glove to its hand, a dawn to its dusk. I know he can run faster, farther without me. I know he’s not an early riser by nature. But running by my side gives him a reason to dive through pockets of cool night air still lollygagging about the meadow path. Before it gets too hot, right left take-it-slow right left lets him step from one order of synergy into another.
our mingled breath
completes the pinwheel