I see your lamplit face.
All space is the same space.
Subatomic time is
Constant among galaxies
And these brains of ours, so
Ideas addressed in neurons
Are heard also among stars.
I am able to look across
Scrabble at you and know
The reverse is also true.
Being you is
Barefoot at
Night rejoicing
Where beach fires
Compose wishes.
Being me is
Years ago noticing
How pliers
Look like fishes.
I have tinkered with this poem a long time. Posted it most recently seven years ago and noticed it got shorter every time I wrote it. So this time I abandoned meter, which was getting troublesome, in favor of an illustration. Went out to the pumphouse and fetched my vicegrips, which are close enough to pliers to serve ably in a Quantum Wave Adjustment Kit. It also needed some anatomical labels, which meant attempting a webcam Geodoodle. Poetry is hard work!
