How many miles have you stretched between us?
Sometimes I think we are continents apart, not hours.
Maybe you’re sailing the Indian ocean
while I reach the sunny peak of a mountain.
Maybe you’re sipping fine French wine
while I trek jungles.
Perhaps you are airborne,
and I am six feet under.
Do you worry that’s the closest we’ll ever be?
Our bones packed into boxes,
with only a few feet of Earth between us?
Will you whisper secrets to me then?
In death, will you evade me too?