A Letter From My Creator

KISS AN ATOM, HUG A MOLECULE

You may be the only one who would approve of what I am about to say. I say this because you told me that you wanted me to lead the planet. I believe that what I have to say is like that.

Here it is: I am in all probability the unshared product of a cluster of very devoted atoms. They are devoted to me in the short term, and to their larger agenda in the long term. They do not object when I assert that to me they behave like agony and ecstasy atoms. They cannot object because it was their idea.

Before becoming me they taught themselves to help themselves to the exuberant energy of the sun, and to get along with the small but crotchety ambassadors who streak out from the stars from time to time.

They are solid citizens. The atoms are, not the streakers. They never seem to wear out. This is true for the atoms but not so true for the streakers. They simply spin from one project to the next, trying to make things a little better each time. I hope they know the difference.

They worked their trade again and again down the millennia, long before taking me on. And they will most likely work things out for you, or something new from you, like a song, or like a book about your life growing up with Mitch and with all those polarizing girls.

When they are no longer able to keep things going for me, they may remember me, I hope, for the good adaptations, if any, that they may have worked out during my brief association with them, including their intermingling with your own very personable and exciting atoms.

Atomic Love, Pop