“Poetry doesn’t know:
The air conditioner
Not in use in winter
Is like my hopes—
Half in, half out.”
—Jack Kerouac, from “Richmond Hill Blues” (Book of Blues)
I have no air
conditioner. No
dishwasher. I have no washing
machine. I am half
in, half out—don’t
take pity on me
because I don’t cook
down suburban roads
in an SUV. I want no mercy
meals from anyone—
not even Kerouac. He’s
dead. I am sitting in
my own lap
topped to wait
for the right moment
to cast a warm glow.
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Having met Kerouac’s Ghost a few times, having dug the bottom of his mind, perhaps the best comment for his poem is, “Yass!”
Hahahaha, I meant your poem, not his….Should I take another hit now?
Pshaw!!!