Me and Jack Kerouac

So sometimes, we just have moments where we stop living and let go. Life lives us, and we just let it for a bit. Feels good to ride the wave instead of just trudging the road. Maybe I should be inside watching TV like all the other good people.  From my seat here on my front porch, I can see the normal ones in houses across the street. Bustling around the kitchen, talking, maybe arguing about the dishes or homework or something else. But honestly, nope, this is cool. Sitting here on a cool December night in Kansas, I'm probably the only Goddamn fool reading Jack Kerouac on his front porch, but what are they going to do? I think they're missing out- they just don't know.

That's the truth too. Everyone is inside, hiding out.  I just came back from a walk, and trust me, they're all on couches, framed against the blue glow of televisions in dark rooms, assuming it's cold when actually it's quite nice tonight. Can't judge em too hard though, it looked cozy in there. But, none of these motherfuckers ever seen stars either. At least in awhile. I know. Sometimes when I talk to people, I drop hints, talk about the shooting stars I see every night, but they don't know because they never even tried. And I'm not crazy. The night sky is incredible, especially out here in Kansas. So honestly, I just don't talk about it. Total shame. They are beautiful... White glowing trails of phosphorus with a green tinge. I make a wish every time. Sometimes it's for me, but usually for someone else. 

Yeah, sitting here, listening to the silent neighborhood, I like this book. Big Sur. I feel like Jack is right here, talking. Be nice if he were to just walk up, say hello. Of course, I couldn't keep my feet propped up. Would have to dust the seat, offer him the other chair, but that'd be alright. It'd be worth it. He'd be in luck too, because I'd offer him a glass like mine of Gnarly Head, Malbec. If he didn't want that, well, then there's Makers Mark. One glass, coming right up, M&M, on the rocks, dash of water. I'd bet he'd like it. Wish the guy wasn't dead, but reading his book is like having a conversation with him, so it's cool. Ol' Jack, good buddy. See you in the next life, miss ya man.

(And I like that Kerouac is my I phone's auto-text memory bank... What comes naturally after Jack? Kerouac, of course! Lol)