I know. But still

when I called I could see you there.

Our voices traveled intact,

they weren’t disintegrated

and reconstructed by Scotty

at the bridge. Mine came to you

through a walkable wire —

I could follow it from my house

to yours — and yours didn’t move —

and I could see you there

in the angle of light in the hall.

I had all that  that was solid. At least

that much of the picture was clear.