A distance reduced to miles where between the duet of two points lays a gulf. I will look out toward a sky that meets a sea. I will see nothing but a seamless pane upon endless horizons where birds drop one by one. A thin line where red blips in the night will flash, rhythmically etching afterimages of a code. I will not understand because of a fracture in the transmission filtered through a determined hum. Words become vague focal points in a cacophony of signals and garbled misrepresentations. With my good ear, a tinfoil hat, and a lightning rod I climb to higher ground to tune in as a final act against the swell of a tide. Where the sweep displaces two points farther. Where the flare can only be seen by one.