But Isn’t Zero

All the many lotteries

Every body totes around—

With three-billion plus base pairs,

Even tiny error rates

Produce a few mutations,

And even though most of those

Are blips, insignificant,

There’s bound to be a body

Holding a losing ticket,

Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Winning tickets are rarer,

Still—still inevitable.

In the nature of nature,

Never’s inescapable.