mitchell, joni
nathan la franeer
i hired a coach to take me from confusion to the plane and though we shared a common space i know i'll never meet again the driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear-view mirror i read his name and it was plainly written nathan la franeer i asked him would he hurry but we crawled the canyons slowly thru the buyers and the sellers thru the burglar bells and the wishing wells with gangs and girly shows the ghostly garden grows the cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day i looked thru window-glass at streets and nathan grumbled at the grey i saw an aging cripple selling superman balloons the city grated thru chrome-plate the clock struck slowly half-past-noon thru the tunnel tiled and turning into daylight once again i am escaping once again goodbye to symphonies and dirty trees with parks and plastic clothes the ghostly garden grows he asked me for a dollar more he cursed me to my face he hated everyone who paid to ride and share his common space i picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door another man reached out his hand another hand reached out for more and i filled it full of silver and i left the fingers counting and the sky goes on forever without meter maids and peace parades you feed it all your woes the ghostly garden grows