My surface area is measured by
A strange attractor, drifting over time
Towards my X, towards my steeper Y,
Towards my mitochondrial end-rhyme:
Alliteration, chromosomal fixtures
Affixing gattaca on movie posters
To boost my global take -- a circus mixture
Of tweets and DNA, a rollercoaster
Of human versions -- you must be this tall
To ride, just two red tickets, fifty cents,
No resale value, cash it in, go all
Or nothing, advocate for commonsense
Taxonomies, and hail the pithecine
Express: a gene, my kingdom for a gene.
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