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.