Mind you, Dave and Duane would have been a little unimpressed with such a move between sets, and I would of hated to see the grim looks on their faces looking down at their watches waiting on stage for me while I was riding some coal car to Chattanooga! I wrote this little poem/piece in Flagstaff one night thinking about some of the places I wandered around when we were there. I think there's a song in here somewhere, but I don't think I've got the cheek yet to write a celtic/irish song about Arizona!

The Monte Vista Hotel in luxurious downtown Flagstaff, Arizona...

A little town high up in the chaparral. Its a town that sits there parked on the lip of Route 66 waiting for you to decide Albuquerque or Los Angeles...

Its a sleepy little town whose sleep is interrupted only by the black iron metal drumbeat of the trains. That slow rattle on the tracks of engine cars, and coil cars throughout the night. Cracked pavements, rusted chain link fence, sharp scent of weeds and long grass in the suburbs, a crushed beer can sitting in the garden, a fat ten year old keeping watch. Its a sleepy little town where you can always count on that police car parked outside the Carls Jr. as much as you can count on the M in Monte Vista neon sign will be shorting out and flickering when the sun goes down.

It's a luxurious hotel--The Monte V.

Not one of the hotels in the Waldorf Astoria chain, in fact not even really a motel. More of a slow tell.... Cause there's a gold neon sign out front with the name of proud mention of the fact that its got COLOR TV. Clean rooms, reasonable rates, HBO and ESPN in every room, and ENO in the cafe, and none of the second hand's work on the clocks.

Tumbling through the doorway, that gold neon sign from the window outside my hotel room is flashing and buzzing like a static electric heartbeat.... Mmm... to fall asleep...

So I fall on the old creaking bed and stare up at the cottage cheese white plaster ceiling. And I'll reach up and empty that bottle of 20-20 Maddog that's sitting on the bedside table on top of that Gideons Bible I'm using for a coaster. And just lie back and listen to the screaming kids outside on the street pretending that they're orphans and just listen to those trains rattle by. Maybe sit back and write a few things down...

One day I'm going to hop on one of those trains and decide whether or not I'm going to go to Albuquerque or Los Angeles.