Johnny puts his fingers on my temples and we look out of the living room window, and the landscape seems to be moving as if I'm on a bus. And he's humming 'America' and working some kind of magic, even though he's not really a healing type.

Cathy I said as we boarded a greyhound in Pittsburgh...

He was telling me yesterday about travelling the country looking for his long lost Judy on a greyhound. The Heroin-Addict-Ex-Girlfriend's name is, ostensibly, Cathy.

You see -- or you don't see, rather. Johnny has this magical talent. If he can't see you, you can't see him. That and the flying thing. But he covers his eyes and he dissapears and he can feel things aroung him, but not see.

I can see snow out of the window, and trees. I lean against Johnny; we're not alone. Alan and Frederick are standing behind us, and that is okay. They are Good. Vanyel's playing the Lyre. And D'Artagnan...

I /don't/ need a D'Artagnan. Dammit.

She said the man in the gaberdine suit was a spy...

Stephen would never wear gaberdine. He's not a spy either... Johnny, what ever are you talking about?

He changes songs.

Fly by night, away from here...

No, not right now, I say.

Part of me screaming to say, I wanna be carried away...

Johnny!!

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant...

That's better.

I give Johnny a kiss. Escapism. It's what's for dinner.

<<agé chose>>

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