long distance

it is as if I live in a small country

pinned at the corners, across the earth’s crust

shutting its eyes in the early evening

sheets and quilts keeping the ice flows in place

as if going up north for the weekend to visit you

is nothing more than a drive to the corner store

to grab a few groceries

in my own island for days on end

I dream of the distance

of rushing through it

to see your face