"Distance is Futile": A Quasi-Refutation of a Pro-Globalization Argument

Not the same, my dear
It’s not the same,
Hopping on a plane, exerting the freedom,
Motion, movement and mobility
Spanning the zones, godlike
For brief intense encounters,
Never the same,


My dear, as the small sharing
Of days, unplanned, spontaneous,
Street lengths away,
A local touching of lives
On the edges, along the seams
Growing together, imperceptibly.
Never the same.