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lyrics

Gina...
broken coffee cups, torn pantyhose––
i need 'em
by the bedside table telephone...

while i was cleanin'...
all your bobby pins in Dixie Cups,
you leaned them
like gardening tools in backs of trucks.

at the marina...
Eastern Seaboard trip in drips and drops...
by the cantina...
roadside flashes haunting the cornstalks...

the rigmarole of our cin'ma's scope, and
our lyrical e-
lopements along The Lone Star Trail with
masts raised and some gauze-wrapped bouquets of
manifold marigolds in elegy for
workers of rail-
roads––an ode in light bulbs culled, pullulating,
gently pulsating in tents, unrepenting…

Regina Jester, queen of equestrians, sun-
bathed by The Great Salt Lake on baked mud. Har-
ry Haystack, slack-jawed, war-widowed horse whisper-
er, sidled up side saddle to her.

The Psychedelic San Francisco Blood Rush gushed
through the ravines and the grandest canyons, ran
the interstates––a kingdom come undone... the
rusted colossus of The Summer Of Love.

The New Frontier...
that old front door...
peel out, floor it...

soon i'll be hittin’ the road;
i'll be hittin’ the beach;
i'll be pickin' up West Coast chicks––
let's go!

credits

from Perennial Dock Morning [Solo Acoustic Demos], released November 27, 2014

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about

Le Phone Cord Oakland, California

"Just a schmo like you or me.”
––David Thomas of Pere Ubu

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