I remember as a kid
I would lie with my face next to a bed sheet,
And the closer I slid,
The wrinkles became waves and I imagine a desert of dunes and heat.

Or pull close to a wall below a window sill,
And press myself right up against it until,
All I could see was the edge with the light outside like a beacon.
And imagine I was trapped from a fall in a canyon .

The thing about imagining you're small is you feel more alone than you actually are.
The space between is the same, it just seems bigger.
Because you're more out of reach.