III

We blew Dodge w/ a hoot & a howl
at the end of our winter in hell.

All of us laughin' at the thunder around us
as familiar landmarks disappeared.

The way to leave Michigan is at night w/ a joyous cry
in the midst of the first spring storm.

"desolation is a railway station at four AM on a weeknight."
our first stop was a final salute to the acoustics of stairwells. 

We arrived in Toledo in the middle of the night, lost, homing in
on the tracks by some desperate sense of history, some hobo nerve.

We rode a spooky shorted-out elevator from the basement to the
station floor.  Johnny & I played the harp & the whistle farewell.

Johnny took the wheel & we toured thru his childhood sites of myth,
we visited with a witch he knew, to consult the wisdom of my quest.

We cruised the ghetto as the sun rose, to the tunes of ancient jazz
Johnny boarded his Northbound train & Jeff & I prepared to go West.

Legba made his final stupendous appearance as a circle of flame
in the condemned, Gothic cathedral of Detroit's old trainstop