if life is really possible
for me to live again
I'm gonna rent a motorcycle
that once belonged to Che
and find a resurrection cave
somewhere south
of south of here
and never ask a thing
no more
except for that my heart
and brain
never lie again
the way they've done before
in a game
of the wrong made right
and right made wrong
when the paradigms of fantasy
substituted
for what lacked imagination
and the voice of reason
drowned out the whispers
of the soul
that needed somewhere
out there on the road
inside the dark
to sit alone
and hear them for awhile
and if this
or any other road
leads another traveller here
to the intersection
of where anything can be
maybe
we can listen
until we find the dance
and love won't be the slave of theory
but life the courtesan of chance