Can you tell? I've displaced talking about talking about leaving Reed with a stubborn silence. A reticent tongue tapped still. I'm not ready to slip away. Not yet. There will be time for talk later. But for now rushing feet unwind their way down the Oregon coastal highway. Seattle to SF. Keep racing mind tracked to other horse stampedes. We'll harness the fallout later. We'll open the letter spilling aches to my stomach and figure it out in internet spun syllabary. Later. I took to pen to keep the ink sweat in check for now. We'll translate it once the magic begins to creep in and paint D.R.E.A.M over dust.
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