Your Ride is Here

here is a list of facts i have told

you & was completely wrong

the sky is made of empty gestures

that dance with a kind of duende

and make the shadow of joy on the ground

we meet in places we cannot be found

with public service messages pinned to my sleeve

they appropriate the names of bands that

play the tourist in a garden of french accents

in my five year plans there are no years after

my confidence calls for a vote

and  is a decisive voice that repeats in my ear

it is philadelphia in the autumn

and the sky is made of falling objects