My Eyes Were Glued On Life And

Scribbled Secret Notebooks, And Wild Typewritten Pages, For Yr Own Joy

...but I Preferred Reading The American Landscape As We Went Along. Every Bump, Rise, And Stretch In It Mystified My Longing.

Sure Baby, Mañana. It Was Always Mañana. For The Next Few Weeks That Was All I Heard––mañana A Lovely Word And One That Probably Means Heaven.

I Was Having A Wonderful Time And The Whole World Opened Up Before Me Because I Had No Dreams.

He Had No Place He Could Stay In Without Getting Tired Of It And Because There Was Nowhere To Go But Everywhere, Keep Rolling Under The Stars.