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Listenning for the hoofs of the rescue party |
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Waiting for some ghost pony |
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To glide into Berkeley |
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With an old fish bowl for a tear trap |
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Strapped to its ghost saddle |
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It moves slow like an excercise bike |
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On an airport walkway |
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Yeah |
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Something that wouldn't smell like ground ants |
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Or glossy magazine cologne |
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But a wet street after light late summer rain |
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A wooden match just lit |
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Or something new in the green |
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Subject of a landscape painting |
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Or something new in the foreground |
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In a poster of some Asian mountains |
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That says "patience" in a funky Italics |
