My friend and I built a fire beneath the red Moab cliffs. This was when I had cancer and wanted God to cure me. Shadow-flames leapt up the rocks. Above, neverending stars. We talked about parents, women, all that had been and would be. In the morning, the tent had holes from the ash and we threw the smoldering logs into the Colorado. All day, we rode bicycles up the trail to Gemini Bridges. Between the twins of sandstone, an endless gap. I thought: My God, to fall! On the way back, my legs failed; my friend rode behind, pushing me with his hand. If there is a God, God was in the fire and the rock and the stars and in my friend’s strength.