Here Are We

I must appreciate someone who might,
by sight, or flight, or purely random chance,
receive, believe–who knows if they’ll requite–
a word of happenstance romance, at glance.
The word I hoped you’d ask for: “Here are we.”
It’s plain, despite the wreath upon the door.
One follows after one–buy two; pay three.
Ask for an epic. Then, I’ll hit the floor.
My gift might be impersonal, arose
from some reflexive instinct in the spine.
It is for you, and only Heaven knows
the words I write are never really mine.
I’ll call you “Zorp,” and you can call me, “Derth.”
It makes no sense, but here we are on Earth.