Two rides had taken him to Bakersfield
then Tracy, a railroad town a howl
and a long red sun away
past tangerine groves and long
melon fields to an LA bound bus
where I sat already going the wrong direction.
“Miss would you like to use my raincoat for a pillow?”
No, I replied, but, come sit.
The bus groaned towards golden town.
He was my kind of mad who smelled
my wounds. We both looked greedily
out on the whole mad promised land arriving
at the shining ragged sticky dawn of Hollywood.
“the fantastic end of America”
We were sweating a fit of sickness
and hit the first hotel we could. He said we needed
whiskey and hurried to find a pint. We took turns on slugs.
He stood behind me at the mirror
and we danced in the bathroom that way
and towards the bed. I let my dress slide off in reverence.
“I knew you was a nice college boy.”
~ as suggested by Jack Kerouac in the
50th Anniversary Edition of
On the Road