Things That Are Distant Though Near

We came back to the commissary for a breakfast on the tenth day after the full moon, sat on the seat next to the corner couch where the four of us sat on that Saturday night, and before that, another four of us sat for an early brunch. The cafe was quiet, with a twenty something working on his computer. The server who served us guided two younger female customers to the bakery case for morning butter croissants and blueberry lemon muffins. After all this is a restaurant in a new area developed from an industrial zone. But news spread fast, and people certainly don't mind to drive to this 'next destination' while there is still ample parking space.

I was hungry and ordered an avocado lemon and gruyere tartine, which was my friend George's favourite. I was also greedy and couldn't wait to taste the salmon and pickled onion cream cheese bagel so I advocated Lee to order it. As we waited for our sandwiches, I got a chance to walk around the space and saw this, which, from a distance was a menu, I thought.

It was a poem by Suzanne Buffam, the name on the lower right corner of the blackboard. Later I found it was from A Pillow Book published in 2016. The title is Things That Are Distant Though Near.

That was not all. I love the poem. That night I googled the writer and found the second half of the poem Things That Are Near Though Distant.

Paradise.
Hell.
The Andromeda Galaxy.
Pen pals.
Laughter on the far side of the bay.