Six Hundred Dollars

I paid six hundred dollars for the fire,
And something more for fixing up the cars
We drove between the clinics and the bars.
No costs accrued for grace, or chicken wire,
No charge was made for preaching to the choir,
The sapphires in the peanut butter jars
Were complimentary, and in the stars
We saw our futures, ready to expire.

Perhaps it's been a difficult few days
Because we couldn't even contemplate
How bad things were. The hospice nurse was late,
The sun was hidden by a smoky haze,
And there were some unspecified delays.
There were complaints, and tears, but no debate.