I gallop like billy-o down a long hall,
   colossal and shaped like a ring,
though my body is so inconceivably small,
   I am almost not even a “thing.”

With each revolution, I’m ever more zippy
   till, nearly as speedy as light,
I boogie like nobody’s business — Yippee! —
   feeling as light as a mite.

But what’s that in front of me coming head-on?
   A proton? It looks just like me.
It is zipping as fast as I’m zipping. We’re drawn
   toward each other. How could I foresee

such misfortune? I can’t seem to dodge him. Collision!
   We shatter, and parts of us spatter
in sizes and forms I could scarcely envision,
   and that is the end of the matter.



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