tinny and tuned

i speak on my phone in the green lit lawn
and throw buckeyes at my shadow,
wondering where they fall when they reach
the regions without light,

the mouthpiece snatches my voice
and gives it back a split-second later,
tinny and tuned to the listening ears
across the lakes and cornfields
a state and a half away,

there are seconds that no one speaks,
save for the wind ,
and the phone repeating the wind,
but without its force
or cool caress,

i am set to join the impossible space,
to fill the gaps in the shadows,

there are moments when i wish
i was a sound wave
transmitting into metal towers
at the center of cells