Busy Signals

I'm talking to you
over numerous miles of wires.
My voice
by these cables accelerated
to a flashlight's speed reach you
and you respond to me.

Over miles we communicate
and yet say nothing
deprived as we are
of all senses save hearing.

Not sense of touch nor scent,
taste nor sight is left us.
None of those are transmitted
over these cold metal strands.

I sound flat to you
and you sound flat to me
As we grope for what to say

The distance between us is widening
with each passage of a day.

And hardly any closer
to an answer have we come
Hardly any closer
than when we'd just begun.