Friday, November 11, 2011


Would love to be in San Fran today
drinking beer in a bar with Jack Kerouac
it would only be a moment in time
truth wanders in that everyone 
eventually goes home
starts families
and such

poor Jack is left alone
at the counter with wrinkles
surrounded by younger birds
the newest flock to fly in

he is old

has finally figured out
why he does not trust anyone
you see
this is not so at all

he just doesn’t
believe enough
in love
in his loveableness

that one can be loved so much
be worth all they are worth
seen for that
that someone would never
do that to him

listening to 60.’s music
just to get by
remembering Jack
and the gleam in his eye
that soon dimmed to regret
until he died in his ma’s house
with a wife, and a pet


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