AT THE MASON-DIXON LINE
At the Mason-Dixon line I called
you up, to see if you were yet
indentured. The madman answering
the phone asked me to say your
name backwards, to see if I was
really me. Not getting any sense
from that, but not wishing to hang
up, I muttered an unintelligable
something, and a pause, which he
accepted. The call went through,
though I only got him again. He
said you were gone, indeed free,
and heading for me - to meet, here,
right where I was. That was sort of
to-plan, as we'd talked, I understood;
yet it still surprised me that you'd
worked it so well. Heaven is like
Heaven, I guess, as Hell is like Hell.
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