A box of fresh bread, SpaghettiOs and Spam
left by the side of the road.

She thought it would be a nice addition
to the canned food drive, but

he didn’t know she would tell him
then and there, after he parked the car.

She didn’t think he would lay his head
on the steering wheel, seething.

He didn’t think he could ever provide
enough of what she wanted.

She argued that they should have grabbed
more items from the pantry before they left.

He didn’t think she understood how close they were
to losing everything.

She thought they could talk to the pastor
about it, get some guidance.

He didn’t mean to get out of the car,
smack his hand on the hood and hurt himself.

She didn’t realize how beautiful
the valley appeared in the haze of sunset.

As she was grabbing the box of fresh bread, SpaghettiOs and Spam from the trunk,
he didn’t mean to yell at her so loud it echoed through the valley.

She didn’t mean to drop the box of fresh bread, SpaghettiOs and Spam,
stomp over to him and say: “I thought you would be happy for us!”

He didn’t know that he could feel so closed in, so dark,
trapped at the bottom of a tin can.

She didn’t know she could cry so hard.

He didn’t know he could leave a trail of dust
behind and destroy a sunset.

She didn’t know that when she went in into the church alone,
that she had forgotten the box of fresh bread, SpaghettiOs and Spam.

He didn’t know that evening that he was leaving
it all and never coming back.

As another night fell,
another Sunday service was offered,
another piece of bread was broken,
another prayer was lost in the wind.