Text: Mountain Goats, The. TahitianAmbrosia Maker.

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.

'cause I saw the sky coming down to meet you.