Close Call ~Dusty

Randomly he sends me poems
that take my breath away
along with sweet little notes
that lightly give it back
We live half a continent apart
Eyes unlikely ever to lock
But just for a while we were, we two,
40 klicks apart and heartbeat close
a skinny black boy and a skinny white girl
clothed in green and damp confusion
in a sultry land where poems might be
born or blasted to bits

What sum would have been subtracted from
the arithmetic of heaven
What narrow gauge might my soul now trace
had I never felt
the blood rush in his veins
never walked into
the mirror of my heart
what diffident miracle might never have been
had my poems DEROSed and his had not

Thirty years later I still start awake
wrath locked and loaded dead on
the arrogant bastards who sent us there
My heart sings him blessing and peace 
but I serve him only wilted words

Hey, Horace, welcome home