Connection is a superficial word,
An image of spliced wires, the chemical
Bonding of atoms, a concentration
Of beams of sound or light, indifferent.
They exist in a state of off-white noise
And paradoxical experience
Where lovers burn deep into their bodies,
Unable to shake cold isolation.
Such a fragile thing, so easily snipped
By a common tool, could never withstand
The hard desire we share. We need the collapse
Of barriers, a fresh wind, silver smoke
Cocooning body and soul, to conquer
Distance through the fearlessness of our love.
Art: Claude Theberge