For Robert and Patrick
Odd times I still felt sideways

From your breath and stride,

Which nine years apart would do

Even with monthly phone calls,

Occasional photo and email,

The hollow confidence of wire,

Grains of ink, same questions

Of your habits, school reports,

Books read, films watched,

Favourite sporting teams,

Friendships and latest pets—

Yet that two weeks together

Was ease confounding distance,

A dynamic of intimacy

10,000 miles can endure.
It began at the airport,

Exclamation of names and smiles,

Easy hugs, eager talk,

Then afternoons of music immersion:

Your mosh pit ska and punk,

Our concord on 70s rock,

MTV concerts and quizzes.
Then evenings distilling beliefs:

Correlations in Church and State,

Merits of Lotus and Cross,

Boycotts of corporation lures,

Bouyancy of career choices.
But mostly the mornings:

Waking in your den

To an aromatic collusion

Of coffee and toast, your playing

A sport computer game

Or sewing band patches

To a cap, knowing the day

Will flourish with lessons

In stone skipping, guitar chords,

Cable cartoon shows, more flair

And facility in the pact of names

Like Son and Dad, moreso Mite,

Your jest on my accent, days

Converging into rapport

Even after airport goodbyes,

A fluency of breath

As we pace continents.