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)
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