At about 10 this morning, I crossed into New Mexico. After leaving Telluride on Monday, I went to Mesa Verde, Black Canyon of the Gunnison, and Great Sand Dunes national parks. Each was fun in its own way– my geologic nerdiness was out in full form. I spent a lot of time driving and hiking, always moving, always going somewhere. My Chaco tan is getting out of control.

So here I am, in a new state: stationary. I’ve cruised through Taos for a few hours, and it’s not too big, so it looks like I’ll be sitting still more than I have been lately. The city’s architecture is incredibly disorienting. Since everything’s made of adobe, it all looks the same. I’ve gotten lost on foot a few times already. But when I’m driving, I can see the mountains and I can use them to figure out where I am. Reminds me of Quito.  Another thing that’s kind of exciting: New Mexico feels so different from the east coast. To me, it looks more like Mexico/Central America than the North America I know. The border crossed this place a long time ago.

During this journey, I’ve been thinking a lot about, well, what I’m traveling through: America. The other night, at the Best Western in Montrose, CO where I escaped from the heat, I had one of my favorite kinds of interactions. After the receptionist (white hair, smile, constantly talking) took my name, she asked me where I was from. I gave my long answer: I go to school in Massachusetts, and I’m from Memphis, TN. She asked, “Is it bad there?”

“Not so much  in Massachusetts,” I said, “but in Memphis it’s scary.” It’s something that’s been on my mind for awhile. When I went home for 10 days at the beginning of June, the city I grew up in had changed. There were “for sale” signs on about thirty percent of houses in middle-class areas. Buildings down the street from my Grandma’s house had been torn down. There was a bank robbery around the corner from my house, in a white, upper middle class neighborhood. My mom’s purse was stolen out of her minivan at a soccer game.

I told the woman (Sylvia, she introduced herself) that I was nervous about entering the job market, and she said she was nervous about friends defaulting on their mortgage. But then she said, “But maybe it will get better. Maybe Obama will win.” She then went on a 5-minute speed lecture about Obama. I ate it up, showed her my bumper sticker, and almost hugged her.

So now I’m here in Taos for a week, attending my second poetry master class. It starts tomorrow afternoon. I still have 60 pages of poetry to read for it. But thanks to my practice in Sofield’s contemporary poetry seminar sophomore year, I feel pretty confident it’ll get done. Love to my favorite Cape Codders this week.