Oh Kerouac
I am thinking of you, Kerouac.
As I always do
when the leaves start to fall,
For that’s when I first fell for you
many years ago.
You lit my fire and spit me into myself, ready to tackle
Each branch of myself.
Aching to view each night through a poet’s eye,
And connect the dots uniquely under the violet sky.
Oh kerouac, please, you know you’re the reason
For my slacks and my oxfords and my cigarettes.
You’re the reason I chase, the reason I search
For a worn out America all covered in dust.
Breathe you in with the tea I smoke, sip you up
Desperately like gas station wine,
Flipping through your pages like I’ve run out of time.
You’ve been with me here and you’ve been with me there
to aid me in scoping out the strange and bizarre.
Though I never met you I feel like I did
Sweet Jack my boy, I am sending you kisses and wishes
From the living to the dead.
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