MUSIC FOR SALE

When it rains the underpasses and the streets are full of water
The temperature of bathtubs and so slow to drain away
Walking in them barefoot I can smell the olives blooming
I can hear the muffled footsteps of the cooling summer day.

Talking art, talking philosophy
debating whether love was right or wrong
this crowd would reappear on summer nights in Union Square
how they stayed so young as strange as what they’re doing there
but by then she was long gone.

Chorus:
There’s a vulture on that mountain
I’m hoping he can’t hear my heart slow down
To the rhythm of the world that’s slowly turning
And Tucson is the place to hear that sound.

Saguaros like a field of piers in a river long since empty
sitting on the porch to watch the sunset and the stars
there’s a daytime sky in Texas that crashes down into the silos
but the evening sky in Tucson sweetly rocks you in its arms.

The desert sky is like a friend of mine
it stands behind me reading what I write
it knows if she were here I’d have her running out for beer
and that I’d happily be lost on expedition in her hair
but it just smiles as the day turns out the light