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From The Airport In Amsterdam

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between continents
you send me a text
from the airport in Amsterdam
to say you are reading my poems
on the long layover. Meanwhile, far away
(far away? Well, somewhere that is not
Amsterdam—) here, on my summer porch,
I read your message while listening to
a noisy woodpecker working down the street,
the only other traveler nearby.  Amazing.
Amazing we can hear each other
from this distance. Bound together
but also separate, all three of us exactly
where on this world we each
have chosen or are meant to be

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