Between Decembers (for my brother-in-law)

You turn to me remembering the summer we met years ago in Phoenix, Arizona. I had a problem. Together that evening sprawling on the floor with my camping gear we looked for the hole in my air mattress. We searched and talked well into the night. You spoke of sunless days, of crushed hopes. I learned to see behind your words, to find a way between the cracks of the years to that December you delivered mail to the Mexican poor. Disguised as Santa, you came with toys, you placed large parcels in tiny hands. How could you fail to touch their skies? Giving makes no sound. From you I learned only the literal fades, only the heart succeeds. Who remembers caring redeems? Finally you found the hole for me; I found the man you dare to be between dreams, between Decembers....

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