I cannot see as you did Jack Kerouac,
Even if I tried I would be thrown back,
Into my own cell of ghastly world-sense,
Which since a child I’ve fed.
I cannot close myself to everybody,
But neither can see good in everybody,
That breathes a clean or polluted air,
I oft sense evil or suspect a stare.
And no, to me god is no Pooh bear,
There is none, least of all yellow haired.
In my own world at least,
There is no room for deities.
Still, I admire your individuality,
The new way of writing and the stretching of the beat,
That has opened the eyes of generations,
Now truly aware of their fellow and of nature.
“America!” you seem to say “the roads are there to See and learn”
But then you gulp down life until you’re dead
So no, I cannot see as you did Jack Kerouac
But still I See and still I understand.