Let your fingers explore the wonderful

crevices of the globe, sitting aside pen holders,

paper cups, things made of the earth. Your fingertips

smile at the notion that they can “see”


such wonders as the Grand Canyon, Sahara Desert,

Atlantic trench, all while lifting a mug of cocoa

to your lips, adjusting the volume on

your spotify playlist.


The leaves will brush up against

the windowpane then, kissing their glossy skin

to the lightsource like insects. Do plants ever feel


cold? You’ll shudder a glacierwide dread, counting

your blessings that you aren’t spending the night

beneath a bridge. But that never would have been


you anyway. Your fingers find the Pacific Ocean

and think nothing of the plastic island as big as Texas.


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