I remember reading a Donne poem
about compasses and distances and how
no matter how far you go, we’ll always lean
towards each other.
How planes go further north to catch the curve
like baseball - which is a game I’ve never played
but I’m playing now.
I could step outside and look straight up
and you could look up, too, and we could be that
ridiculous couple who pretend to see the same things
in the same sky.
Seek out the satellite throwing our voices into space
and down again in front of the other person -
because that’s what’s happening right now.
We’re cheating geography, you and me.
We are existing in two places.