Summer slid from the steeple tiles into the flowing dishnand we were all astonished she let go of heat like this.nThen we were gone again it seems, to green uncharted woods,nwhere the rivers roll and bend over backwards for their fish.nnWe returned to the late, great plains,nthe unwounded and unchallenged stain,nto satisfy the saint we saidnYou must keep clouds inside your headnto satisfy the saint we liednYou must put charity before pride.nnSo she drove to the sunset to ask the moon How come?nBut the moon picked up the highway using the ocean as a thumb.nI just can't understand, she said, How you left me in this roomnwith the pieces of our shattered bed, this flashlight and no broom.nnThey say the ghetto lacks prescription pills and your baby's cavity.nYou can drill and fill with porcelain, you can send that shit to sea.nAnd the chosen with their lotion, and their powders and their slavesncan afford the biggest heartaches with the headaches that they save.nnNarrow hands must gather paradise on silver strands of grass,nor in the Redwood forest, in forgiveness or in wrath.nBut she looked for it in love itself, in the pores of his drinking skin.nShe found it in the doorway and that's where she offered it to him.nnBut her lover disappeared just like the blisters from his kissnand she retired to her bedroom with the aching limbs of Sisyphus.nThey say she pushed a boulder to the crest of some God forsaken hillnwhile the rest of chose to do without or else worship standing still.