Kerouac

I.

Yeah,

I know your

            suffering &

            pain &

            heart.

I know you Jack,

I am you Jack.

Do I want to live,

            or do I die already?

Am I you?

Am I me?

Am I still alive?

And them,

O sweet them?

O sweet them!

How—

            I see

            I live—

                        for you I am

                        for me,

                                    poor me,

                                    I wonder.

Am I here

            when you’re already gone—

            Are you gone

            because you think so?

            I feel you,

            I know you.

O god,

            you living—

            me living—

                        how sweet,

Sweet—

            I can’t feel

            I wish we could…

“Go on” I hear—

            so I go,

            know—

                        no, I can’t be,

                        I can’t love—

                        I can’t feel…

                                    unless you:

                                    Jack Kerouac,

Yeah, you…

you shall return.

You’ll feel as I am,

but will I know you

when you come back,

            and let me know

            I am here—

            I am you—

II.

Sweet Gods,

their nectar,

raped by me & you Jack,

when we were:

            we were young once,

            don’t you remember?

Do you feel

my muse,

my heart?

Sweet you & I,

as we cry:

            you’re high,

            I sigh,

but I’ll feel it again,

when heaven returns,

with you:

Jack Kerouac.

You and I,

we,

thriving on soul,

beat,

together,

we’re back—

            Jack,

Can you feel it?

My heart,

your heart,

we—

            so close to home,

            so far from sane.

WE ARE.

We are whole—

            hearted with steel,

            an eerie mysticism

            of soul,

            again,

            I’ll cry

            for you.

And if we die tonight—

it’s you and me,

Jack.