How can it be that I am me?
After all, I could just as easily have been a flea, or a pea.
How did I get here – to 3.52, right now in this place?
And of everyone who’s ever been so far – the eleventy kertrillion former people, representatives of the human race –
to be me? Did I decide it or was there a plan, a grand idea
that brought me, as I am, with my cup of tea and this hair to just here?
Why do I know the things that I do
like Pythagoras, navigation and how to make stew?
Why is it I didn’t I turn out Swedish or tall or willowy,
or, indeed, a different woman at all?