Saturday, August 8, 2009


I’m California bound
I can hardly wait to lay my beach towel out
The sky is closing in
I can feel the future on my skin
Glistening like a horse
shining like a city of quartz

Running out of phase
The desert and the microwaves
A siren and a whore
in the echo of the last good war
On the air tonight
On the air tonight

Your voice is nothing against the noise of the engine grinding out that summer line
Coast in slow over Reno, the Diablos
I can almost see the waves break on the dial

When the last flight touches down
When the immigrants have kissed the ground
When your legs are tucked away
and the colourful has turned to beige
Stand glistening like a horse
Shining like a city of quartz

By Greg MacPherson

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