long distance
I whisper something
into the tiny microphone
of the phone in my hand
which translates my words
into ones and zeros
sends them, via the antenna
to a tower I can just
make out
on a nearby mountain
from there my understanding
is fuzzy at best
I imagine my binary digits
shooting into the sky
breaking through the atmosphere
like invisible astronauts
on their way to the moon
they’re intercepted
by orbiting satellites
flipped like racing swimmers
against the wall of an Olympic pool
before being hurled back down
through several layers of clouds
the adventurous numbers zoom
straight toward another tower
then out to the antenna on the phone
you hold as you lie on your bed
waiting for my voice in your ear
7 November 2013
Oak Street
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