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“Que el cielo exista, aunque mi lugar sea el infierno.”
  Let heaven exist, though my place be in hell.
    ~ Jorge Luis Borges, “La biblioteca de Babel” (1941)

It was on one of our trips to meet a friend in town
On one of those many occasions
When she arranged for us service by mail
Enveloped readied and postage fully prepaid by us
With proof for the court clerks
Who’d soon be inspecting the page before me
That’d soon be bearing the signature
Of that friend
Who’d get nothing tangible in return
That female friend
Who wasn’t unattractive or socially bereft
That friend
Who’d felt our frustration with the courts
Who’d expressed empathy
Who’d done this for us so many times
That I felt bathed in the warmth
Right there on Zayante Road
Riding as another female friend
Of many years and many trials
Drove the two of us through the curves
Somewhere between Lower Ellen and Fern Ridge
Santa Cruz bound
That unparalleled warmth of understanding
For the first time in my life
That this representative we were about to meet
Of half the human race
I’d always thought of as jaded aloof indifferent annoyed burdened condescending unloving

Thanks always returns

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