Marching On With Time
When the spirit moves him, the Double G
rocks on one more time, itself an end
to the means of the words & how they may be
be interpolated by the unprepared and/or uninitiated
as the notes of the strings plucky dove bend
with feeling & bluesified elation midst the dissociation
encountered in this here alleged creation.
Flipping the flapjacks and spooning the beans, ah, the beans,
in the back row, beating on the table with a wooden spoon, while
thinking about who failed to manage Jack Kerouac so prosperity would be his,
and the absence of a bottom out allowing our hero a phoenix like rise from the blotto of bloated misery
and be a real daddy to his deserted daughter Jan, now gone too, all so blue, both deprived of any just dessert
so garnered from the original rolling teletype manuscript of "On The Road" which sold for 2.5 million plates of black beans,
which
will go with a lot of bacon to be
sure.
God Bless Us, Everyone, Jack!
Manuscript of
On The Road
Sold for 2.5 million at auction
Lotta beans. Lotta beans.
