Tom Robbins and the road

Skinny Legs and All took us to Burning Man and back, then lay neglected, if not forsaken, on the headboard (like a paperback shell in a dusty cave). Somewhere between Temple City and Nevada Landing, though, the Fifth Veil has fallen. Vegas lights the sky with empty promises; the sodium glow of the streetlamps is the gilt on this Temple. Sometime before dawn, the Seventh Veil will float to the floor on the other side of the Utah border, and we’ll be more than halfway home.