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.
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