Better Western Riverside

Patience communes are hotel ballrooms
Hot, grit coffee is the summer rain 
That former farmhouse dreams 
Filled with bedrooms and cultivation 
Our culture is spill invisible carpet 
Silver ice water carafes 
Polite applause 
And the impulse to walk the town 
Rather than stay and listen and 
Let our legs fall asleep crossed 
But our age is wisdom 
And to stay 
Is no longer a pejorative purgatory 
Heaven won't come 
And by hell we won't go 
And with our ears and our eyes 
Our noses will learn to trust 
That the microphone is not an invasion 
Rather the amplification of our dream 
To forget the certainties 
That built our every shame