I’m flying west

And I’m flying west. Seems like everyone always wants me when I’m not available. Ain’t figured that one out yet. Must be a rule or something. I think today’s the “Twelfth Night,” which, given the eclipse cycle right now, makes for an interesting time. My Gemini buddy came by and we hit Angie’s, the little place on the hill. Soft, corn tortillas more than an eighth of inch thick, redolent with masa flavor. Nothing but corn meal, masa, and a little bit of drywall to stick their tortillas together. A little later, I spun by the bank to make a deposit, and I saw the strangest thing I’ve seen in a while. There was patron in an impeccably tailored suit, soft gray wool, with a collar reminiscent of the old days — a Nehru collar. Sort of. Good thing I have no sense of style.