She made the revival preacher forget his bibles--
Then sold him to the devil for a dollar.
She loved a gypsy exactly one rainy year--
Then was sold herself
For a smoke and a half-warm bottle of beer.
You cannot find love in Commerce,
Nor swap back your soul.
You cannot stop the wind.
This poem has nothing to do with either of them, but nonetheless, it is dedicated to my two heartland blogger friends, Mama Zen and Hedgewitch, as well as to the man from the mitten, G Man.