Kerouac

Sounded the drum of his Spent generation Bobbity bomp bomp jazz me man On the road without a home War-orphaned Drifting through the passing Years Nameless streets, forgotten bars Lampposts dripping on dark corners Hands to roll a cigarette Words and women dropping in and out Bottles to pour salvation Soothing fire In the cold flat of night Eyes open and close The music sassy, blue Pounding Surprising rhythms Making it up Beat by beat As you go. (Previously published in Pogonip, Apr.2000; Jack Magazine, Issue 1, Summer 2000)