june 2, day 2
Battle Mountain, NV to Salt Lake City, UT


i used to judge a motel by its bathtub -
the steeper the incline, the cheaper the motel.
nice motels don't have breakneck bathtubs.
but after last night, i'm judging motels by their
doors. the door to the room at the Big Chief in
Battle Mountain was swollen, required two hands
to close and was almost impossible to lock. and the door
to the bathroom was permanently cockeyed.
on the other hand, the bed was HUGE - an eastern
king, positively oceanic.

in the morning, a boy in the lobby said: nothing is
ever open in this town and no one is ever home.
i nodded and we were happy to leave.

i feel like a sailor, entranced, hypnotized, watching
the sky all day long for clues about the future.
the clouds are cyphers, their mysterious meanings wrapped
in ever-changing fluff.
we drove through some pounding rainstorms again and the desert
was green which is beautiful but disarming. the sudden white of the
salt flats just over Utah border look like a snowstorm in the Sahara.

we had dinner at the Red Iguana and Andrew was reunited
with his grandmother's Steinway grand piano, all restored
and richly glowing in its walnut cabinet.

the landscape is exquisite and
the miles are exhausting.
a bath awaits me.