I Googled David Franklin Young–You Weren’t There. Now You Are.

April 27, 2008

I remember when
marijuana was $15 oz.
I was neal cassady
on that magic bus
zig-zagging
across the south
ontheroad to Miami
nonstop to Jamaica
teenagers caught
free in America

I remember
you threw up
in that Arkansas midnight
taking ludes w/o water
falling out of the car
flat on the bluehighway
you would do anything
to keep from driving
you laughed
looking like a
half-assed
snow angel
laid out
on that delta asphalt

28 years
since I have
seen you
not that we haven’t
thought or talked
your name
I tried to picture
you in a nursing home
couldn’t
blocked it out

we got a letter
saying you died
I was angry
not that you were gone
but for other reasons
maybe for the way you lived
or didn’t
or could have
maybe for the way
they left part of your
brain on the stoop
that black-damned night
as the ambulance
pulled away
maybe because you
never found the
easy way to make
a buck
your get-rich-quick
schemes always
fell apart
but you would quickly
come up with another

I don’t normally do funerals
but
would have done yours
would have wrote
a long poem
celebrating–
cried reading it
would have read
something from
Kerouac’s scroll

like fabulous yellow roman candles
exploding
like spiders across the stars

and slipped something
under your hand for
your trip
I would have looked
deep into your face
behind that little
shit-eating-grin
you always wore
seen our past
like a childhood
flip book
and said good-bye

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American Sentence #11

April 27, 2008

On the road with too much magic bus seems fitting to end the beat scene.