In this poem, a writer is controlled by his publishing company and must make the circuits (or go on his pilgrimage) to sell his works. He doesn't like it very well, and his flesh would rather be at home in bed, but he has been conditioned to believe that the people need to hear him/see him in order to sell his writing. So he reluctantly travels via plane from city to city (or holy sites). He doesn't get to know anyone long enough, though they are friendly towards him.
The writer admits he is grouchy and doesn't like to fly because there is never anything good to drink on the plane. He sneaks his own drink on the plane. (Bet you can't do that today!) He says the fancy hotels do not impress him. He'd rather read the Bible.
And finally, seeing the same scene again, incoming rooftops on the ground of a city, another show exactly like the last one, he asks God to bless the people of the USA, a rich country that now he contributes.
The writer admits he is grouchy and doesn't like to fly because there is never anything good to drink on the plane. He sneaks his own drink on the plane. (Bet you can't do that today!) He says the fancy hotels do not impress him. He'd rather read the Bible.
And finally, seeing the same scene again, incoming rooftops on the ground of a city, another show exactly like the last one, he asks God to bless the people of the USA, a rich country that now he contributes.