Why does the universe exist?
Why is the pizza guy at the door?
Because I am hungry? Because there are phones?
Because I’m an animal blessed with a stomach?
Because of the biochemistry
inside of my brain? Because of the fact
I have fingers to dial the digits on phones?
Because I’m a pizza-loving person?
Because that guy has to pay the rent?
Because that is his job in a land
that believes in the story that paper money’s
worth more than paper? Because of cows
that make the milk for the cheese they layer
over the pie? Because of the farmers
that harvest the wheat and the tomatoes
the restaurant bakes with the dough? Because
we’ve mastered the art of making brick ovens
and fire? Learned to control that fire
because of Darwinian evolution?
Because the moon keeps the planet from tilting
too far on its axis so weather patterns
are stable enough for life to flourish?
’Cause Earth is in the Goldilocks zone—
not too close or too far from the sun, which helps
the grass to grow, which the cattle munch
to make the milk for the cheese on the pizza?
Because there’s more matter than antimatter?
Because the laws of quantum mechanics
say that particles are waves
waving in the wavy field
called the wave function of the universe?
But why is there a universe?
(. . . he mused as he munched his mushroom pizza).



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