It was raining in Walla Walla when I left.
I love the smell of wet America.
Smelled like wheat fields, roads,
chaff and mud.
Smelled like forever.
(400+ in the theater.)

Dallas was family--cousins singing to me at night. And the arts community.
A.C. didn't work in my room. 81 degrees. Sweaty dreams.

Santa Fe, fully in light. Aspens bursting gold above town.
At the Scottish Rite Masonic Temple, the masons took me in back
and showed me all the really good secret stuff. "So you're the guys
who secretly run the world," I said.
"Yes we are."
Theater full. Balcony full.
(300+ in the audience.)

Awake today at 3:15. Packed by 4:10. Out the door of the room
at La Fonda--just me and the Latino mop guys in the vast hotel.
Out on the street at 4:30, the church glowing red-gold at the end of the black street.
Santa Fe cop slowing down to stare at me in the dark.
I rode the shuttle to Santa Fe airport with my own pilots. The shuttle driver brought donuts
for everybody in the terminal. All six people.

Tiny plane going along the front range.
I watched the landing thru the front window of the cockpit--it's a wilder dive than a roller coaster, we just don't usually see it.

Sick, sick--I'm sick to my stomach on every tour.
Home for a night. Washing my underpants. Eating cereal.

Looking at Santa Fe real estate listings.

No time for anything.
We leave tomorrow for Michigan. They're expecting 800-1,000 people.
What is happening? I...just...don't...know.

Get home from Michigan, wash the underpants and shirts again,
and leave for Colorado.

Thinking of you.


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