COME (HOW?)

Come March– march over to me,
I, undiscovered country.
I had no idea that it was your birthday
as I saw you shout “Come”
into my lampwicked digital diaries.

Come. I would like to come.
But the space between looms large and (how?);
the miles are a long and cold shroud,
useful only in covering up
our knowledge of each other.

The wired highway telegraphs,
shows us how.

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