Triboluminescence

There's always a trick someone will call science. 
A loaf of banana bread at the school fair = Chemistry. 
Each fall, students at the university climb the stairs 
to the roof and drop pumpkins from there. It's hard to tell 
who does the measurements, who keeps time. Everyone 
leaning out of a window or walking past can hear the splat 
on cement, see the festive orange guts that fleck the grass 
border. No one was harmed in the experiment involving
a feather and a cannonball. There are times I'm convinced 
quantum physics will make it possible for me to be 
everywhere. If a smashed sugar cube can give off 
sparks of light thaf fly like fish scales,  why 
should I not harbor the same ambition?