Tour

"My last days in Rome were pretty much all rain. But I still of-much liked Rome. I had a job in a movie to play an American hippie. It was just a part for extras, probably only a couple of days work. Didn't feel it would be worth hanging around for.

The fountain of truth girls had written home for-money. It would come. It would take-time. They had a boat to catch. They couldn't wait for the money to arrive. They needed-enough money to get to Israel. I lent them the money. I went with-them. Seemed like an OK place to go for the winter. Thought I would check it out. The Holy Land. Most younger people in Europe, did not-like America vis-a-vis Vietnam, and Israel vis-a-vis the Palestinian problem, with good reason-both as time-would share, in the first of all time-share plans.

My last night in Rome, the eve before departure, I wandered the streets all-night. I got locked-out of my hostle - helping the Guess-Who girls my new travelling companions, so as they should not get-locked out of theirs. The revenge of Miss Chicago. They locked the-doors at ten-o'clock, exactly the-catch here, for some reason I must go with them to their hostle near ten o'clock closing, so I cannot be in two-places at-once. A nights-errant in a clod-shoddy array, with these knee-high sheep-skinned leather-boots, I was cowboy wearing for the unpredictable-rain; made by a poet in Athens who propertied a poetry-leather shoe-shop, and who encouraged the likes of me to hang-out. He was published in New York and had the hard-covers to prove it. He was trying to crack the New-York market. He was a peasant shoemaker sophisticate for travel-note dreamers. No-sex here but in the clouds. Mercury in leather-winged songs.

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