On the Border  [unfinished work]



I remember Barry Dyson when I first met him at school
In a dormitory room so small survival was a duel,
Sizing me while sizing him for traces of the fool,
As we wondered which of us would be the master or the tool,

On the border...between harmony and hate,
Where the blade or the chalice is too early or too late,
When the slightest break of symmetry must then accelerate,
So through a long and drunken night made brotherhood our fate.
 

We traded dates and papers as we each sought a degree,
Mine in English literature and his, biology,