Waiting for some ghost pony

To glide into Berkeley

With an old fish bowl for a tear trap

Strapped to its ghost saddle

It moves slow like an excercise bike

On an airport walkway

Yeah

Something that wouldn't smell like ground ants

Or glossy magazine cologne



But a wet street after light late summer rain

A wooden match just lit

Or something new in the green

Subject of a landscape painting

Or something new in the foreground

In a poster of some Asian mountains

That says "patience" in a funky Italics