Turning up and down in the wind-every single crane I folded On the seventeenth day of the fifth month I took you to go see the gardens To see the orchids bloom White Purple and blue Hanging leaves Trees like statues on a night without wind The ghost festival It was dark in the perfumed gardens Velvet purple sky We sat and listened to the far off music The sound of drums Traveling along the gurgling river Sitting down on the edge of a rock You were laughing and smoking one of my cigarettes Those wisps of smoke curling around And the flick flick of your ash on a rock You thought you were so cool sitting there like Joplin, all strung out and white looking like Courtney love Your knee high socks Are smeared in mud and pollen Just then the music all stopped at the festival down the river Except for some lone flute playing a haunting other-worldy melody As we sat looking on the calm purple waters The children and old women took small paper boats with candles inside The mothers and the fathers The sisters and cousins Uncles and brothers All knee deep in the darkened waters Pushing those small glowing ships down the river Leading all those lost souls and spirits The ghosts of this year's dead flowing out to sea
Like a fleet of stars they slowly drifted Water reflecting the hundreds of candles That crescent moon looked so right above the spirits I watched them clear the bend - Without taking a breath- Until you laughed and flicked your cigarette **** into the still water Ripples of moonlight Talking about yourself in the dark Somewhere down the river the music started again