Sunday morning my Rebekahs sleeping in with me again
there’s a kid outside the church kickin’ a can
when the ceder branchs twist she turns her collar to the wind
the weather can close the world within it’s hands
and my mother says Rebekah is as stubborn as the come
they both call me to with words i never knew
there’s a bug inside the thimble theres a band aid on her thumb
and a pony in the river turning blue
they say time may give you more then your poor bones could ever take
my Rebekah says she never wants a boy
to be barefoot on the driveway as they wave and ride away
and to run inside and curse the open door
i once gave to my Rebekah a belated promise ring
and she sold it to the waitress on a train
i may find her by the phone booth with a fashion magazine
she may kiss me when her girlfriends leave again
they say time may give you more then your poor bones could ever take
i think i could never love another girl
to be free atop a tree stump and to look the other way
while she shines my mothers imitation pearls
Sunday evening, my Rebeka’s lost a book she never read
and the moon already fell into the sea
so the statues of our fathers in the courthouse flowerbed
now they bend with all the lighting tattered trees
they say time may give you more then your poor bones could ever take
my Rebekah said she knew id want a boy
a dollar for my boardwalk red balloon to float away
she would earn a pocketful to buy me more