Once she fell in love with a strange-tongued rhapsodist who was named after a staircase in the Grand Canyon. He drove a black bicycle with a night light, peddling around the city, down through the woods to night-cap the moments or to the seafront for salt-kicked reflection. They lived together with a button in a perplexing button-hole next to the rainbow which was widely recognized by mustached persons wearing leather chaps. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with nothing and paint and photos and books; and Wee and her staircase-boy would sit eating bacon and sonnets while the button did and un-did many things. His sweet tooth and fondness were wholehearted. Eventually he left her for a pecan pie, though she was nutty herself.