the view through the glass or what we call the space between us

A Poem by plainme

My vision is limited but, somehow I can see everything that is going on through connections in the air; like copper wires in a phone; like the satellites watching us constantly, the big eyes in the sky are always in focus.

Distorted images, far from perfection is all we get, but the appearance of the shadow is clearly you; the thin lines that are easily distinguishable are your curly hairs and the two thick red stripes are your lips, puckered and half closed. Big glassy eyes looking my way, sometimes in sync with mine, making us feel one, again.

The moonlight draws its sheet across your body, creeping up slowly from toes to head, the sun blinds my eyes when I try and see the stars that watch over you. But it’s, in a way, madness; trying to curl my vision around like the satellites do.

Owls are whispering and singing songs, conversing with one another while I peek outside. I can see them; the stars. And they tell me stories of how time married space and so on. They never talk sense, they’re always abstract poets who I cannot decipher.

The sun is shining over your path, Chiharu. While my eyes get used to the darkness and cold of the night. And all I’m left with is the memories of the dust in the summer wind.