To Ken Kesey & Neal Cassady

When you’ve never been lost,

there’s no need to be found

 

As the self-disenfranchised,

circle around

 

They question and lecture,

and spew out their grief

 

To lure you within,

their false broken beliefs

 

“You really don’t get it, man,”

they sing from their bus

 

They say “You’re unhip”

and “You need to be us”

 

The desert of all deserts,

they march to inane

 

Where a prank on themselves

—waits in drug induced shame

 

(Villanova, Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

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