Poetry With Hart

I waved to you
across the country air
over fields, hills, and brick buildings, 
dotted line borders not yet
a quarter millennia in the making.

I waved to you
in mistyped messages, info dump
joy of a moment neatly folded 
into the confines of our days, 
like packing for a daytrip in our minds.

I waved to you
from a parallel world,
parallel paths of understanding
that the parallel bars of phone connection
run parallel, like the bars to a cage.

I waved to you
knowing our lives may never truly intersect
and rejection stings like frostbite,
and your eyes betray a glacial understanding
of a world melting under hate.

I waved to you
and you saw me
for a moment there,
awakened souls acknowledging
the existence of the other.

And then the moment was gone,
neatly folded back in
to the suitcases of our thoughts,
next to the parts of ourselves  
we reveal to no one.