Sunday morning my Rebecca's sleeping in with me again
there's a kid outside the church kicking a canwhen the ceder branches twist she turns her collar to the wind
the weather can close the world within its handsand my mother says Rebecca is as stubborn as the come
they both call me to me with words i never knewthere's a bug inside the thimble theres a band-aid on her thumb
and a pony in the river turning bluethey say time may give you more than your poor bones could ever take
my Rebecca says she never wants a boyto be barefoot on the driveway as they wave and ride away
then to run inside and curse the open doori once gave to my Rebecca a belated promise ring
and she sold it to the waitress one a traini may find her by the phone booth with a fashion magazine
she may kiss me when her girlfriends leave againthey say time may give you more than your poor bones could ever take
i think i could never love another girlto be free atop a tree stump and to look the other way
while she shines my mother's imitation pearlssunday evening, my Rebecca's lost a book she never read
and the moon already fell into the seaso the statues of our fathers in the courthouse flowerbed
now they blend with all the lighting tattered treesthey say time may give you more then your poor bones could ever take
my Rebecca said she knew i'd want a boya dollar for my boardwalk red balloon to float away
she would earn a pocketful to buy me more