Sense a Billion

There’s so many of you—there’s just
So many, many of you. Count

And count and count again. You say
You know, but you’re estimating,

And in the midst of the moments
You spend counting, more come and go

In twinned, unequal, sprawled amounts.
Each count, instantaneously,

Needs updating. There’s so many
Of you, more, more than you can feel

In your individual bones
Or personal thoughts, no matter

Which rough estimate you recite
To yourself. The only moments

You get some sense are those in which
You feel how absurd some event,

Like winning the lottery or
Sudden death by falling tree branch

On a calm day, would be if it
Happened right now, to you, yourself,

But how ordinary, banal,
That event would be in the news.

You are so many, many yous
That nothing happens but happens

To one of you, and yet it won’t
Occur to you, just one of you.