Joni: I drew a map of Canada, Oh Canada, with your face sketched on it twice
After midnight on a bus, whispers from a couple in the fourth row sharing seats. Dark fields, sheep gathered in, no winding road, lonely twinned streetlamps suddenly go. Legs aching like all the rest, strangers asleep with wide open mouths. Drenched in guitars, the sound of deserted bars.
Joni: Oh you’re in my blood like holy wine, taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet -