we were real hungry and half dead
when you broke out half a loaf of sourdough bread.
and in the tropical air the scent rose like a spirit.
moments of grace like this being wholly unmerited. ahh.

we were newly alive and I felt your hand on my arm.
I was awake to the sensation and immune from all harm.
you pressed your soft cheek up against my gut.
pure gold. nothing but gold,
and I'm gonna bake you a nice coconut cream pie.