Today,
the telephone wires connect us.
Across the road
sit obelisks of cement,
casting shadows and casting lines:
Those cables travel across
a phantasmagoria of forests
and fields
and factories.
Beneath the earth
—amidst the burrows of
little-seen critters—
they extend their tendrils,
traveling onwards.
Across the floor
of a trillion tons of tepid water
—the ocean offers no obstacle—
electricity has flown
for over fifty years.
They sprint across a continent
to reach where you now sit.
And when you look at that bit of cable
—suspended seemingly insignificantly—
I look at the same bit of cable
right here.