Hot Candy Presence

I know when you're in the same room, sensing the proximity  with a shark's sense that detects slight movement in water from miles away. Sometimes it is a scent and perhaps I just missed you, the delicate contrail.  It is like I have ampullae of Lorenzini. 

I know when you are in the same city. Bright colors of you. Easily spotted as you plume like a refinery fire at night. A mirror in a desert. Eyes attracting easily. 

I know when you are in the same county. Like a crop duster gliding over the barns and cuts in the land I sense the edges of you, where you end, where you begin. The sweet property of you, lush, delicate that I can see in one full sweep, one full gaze. 

I know when you are in the same state as me.   An area code popping up from a phone. An accent that colors your tongue. A place I can be relatively quickly but not next door. Never next door. There is distance. Travel. 

I know when you are in the same time zone as me. Hours. At night. In mornings. I am able to calibrate, calendar. Is she awake, is she around. Is she there. A wide path of a wondering clock hand that lets me know we are in synch. 

I know when you are in the same country as me. High above in a flight there are no dark waters. Just brown and vanilla colors of the homeland. We walk on the same earth, we are a bit on the horizon but we are in a straight line gaze. Even if I cannot see you. 

I know when we are on the same hemisphere. The sun pinking your cheeks. 

I know when we are in the same planet because we share a moon. 

I just don't know, however, if we are in the same universe. 

As I have seen the fall of night ignite the fall of stars, the cross paths of satellites and planets, an orange of Venus in a morning. But in the cloudless cold of space I find no equals, no physics, no markers.   But mostly what I feel, at times is that your distance is greater than the most distant system I could even sense. Let alone see. But I know you are out there. Because there is a jealous sun that I will always see.