When this old farmhouse was built it would have taken
half a day or more to walk to the nearest town,
but they probably would have had a radio.
I sit on the couch listening to the “Wyrd Sisters”
on the British radio, streamed online, laughing
while I Facebook-chat with a friend from Australia
whose artistry inspires my own sense of beauty.
Such a small world. “But this isn’t when she’s online,”
says the kid. “Hmmm?” I say, “Who?” “That girl, remember?
The one we talked about?” “Oh, right, where is she from?”
The reply: “I don’t know. Arizona, I think.
Does it matter?” “Well, her profile says she is from
Virginia.” “No, she never mentioned Virginia.
I’d remember that.” “Uh oh. How do you know her?
Are you sure she is really who she says she is?”
“Mom! You’re kidding! She’s been my friend for years and years!”