If I am going to take this pilgrimage
preparation is a must
beginning with the three staples
without which,
my literary hero could not have become who he was;
My notebook has already been thoroughly stained
by my arsenal of blue ink pens
but the third piece has been missing until now:
Warm apple pie with a heaping scoop of
pure sweet-milk french vanilla ice cream;
deliciously healthy hobo food
Fresh fruit, grains, calcium, warmth and comfort,
a memory of home for the homeless
a reminder of innocence for a worn-out traveler
a brief embrace of a parent for those of us who are orphaned
The combination of fire and ice,
the clash of elements
as the plate is placed in front of me
after miles of wandering the strange streets of a familiar city
melts itself straight away into a collage of
Beat dreams and American ambition,
a black & white glance of the sadness
we have for too long refused to recognize
Long gone are the dollar-twenty-five blue-plate days
when this simple meal of patriotism sustained the drifters
of the road
but inside of me
refusing to grow out of childhood delusions
where dreams really do come true
I take each bite with hope and memory
that I might pay respect to Jack
so that I might lose sight of myself enough
to realize just what purpose
this universe has created me for…
af
(written with pen on paper)
Word started spreading and Nancy, who had previously had a poem purchased for her, was nice enough to get a few of her own. So, a tribute to one of my inspirations…