The only Quantum I know is a car,
It’s famous for crossing physical borders,
With goodies and gifts from the other side;
From relatives bent on giving us the illusion,
That the grass is greener on the other side,
Yet they may or may not be suffering like the rest of us,
Hell! they could already be spirit like some of us.
The gifts they send are not proof of life,
We know they dodge bullets and petrol bombs every now and then,Just like us,
So until we meet again,
Like Schroedinger’s poor cat,
To each,
We are neither dead nor alive.