To Ken Kesey and Neal Cassady

If lost in yourself, there’s no need to be found As the self-disenfranchised, circle around They question and lecture, and spew out their grief To lure you within, their false broken beliefs “You really don’t get it, man,” they sing from their bus They say “You’re unhip” and “You need to be us” The chanting of laughter, they march to inane Where a prank on themselves —waits in drug induced shame (Villanova, Pennsylvania: December, 2019)