The sudden deadspots when the phone cuts out
Are like reminders of a simpler age
When all communication had some doubt
Even the copies of the printed page
And instant conversation was a dream.
What was it like to live so far away
In every sense from those whose bodies seem
So insignificant, those still today
Just as far distant, but in mind and speech
Immediate, or functionally so,
Never beyond the heart's potential reach
Unless my signal should begin to go?
Would I be who I am if those I need
Were farther than the emails that I read?
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