So narrow you can see right through.

The big-
gest sin
is not
suicide;
it's fail-
ing to
learn
from your
mis-
takes.

(You did
that
stolen re-
volver
justice,
Babe;

these hills
are nothing
like
white
elephants.)

But my
idea
of Heaven
is

to sleep
beside you
every night

and on
our ride
home
from the
lake
last
weekend
I kept my
sunburn
a secret
for fear
that you'd
stop rub-
bing my
back.