Verse: Distance

In so many ways

The agency we ascribe to others,

To our friends and family,

To those closest to us,

Is ill removed from what we imagine.

We imbue each with personality.

We invent a character.

We dress mannequins in glass cases

In the selfish image

Of our own design.

Is the life we bestow,

Upon non-existent predators,

A beloved character on TV,

The other people in traffic,

Any less real?

Consider this:

How is the memory of a friend

Shaped by our own perceptions?

By their body?

By their presence in our world?

Do we imagine the ones

Who share the most with us?

Form, intention, each prescribed.

Or are they removed

From foreign influence.

If distance

Is existence

Who

Or what

Is closest to us?