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.