Jack Dreams On

Got Jack riding shotgun here, Kerouac is reading some of his beat poetry it kind of feels old school now, but this is a first edition write and he rocks it gently on its heels like a whispering Buddha. Jack grins, taps me on the shoulder: "Hey man you know where we're we going?" I have to shout over the throaty throb of the 1949 Hudson. "To an auction house dude, one day you're gonna be famous." Jack lights another cigarette closes his eyes dreams of a distant country that never arrives.