Ken Trimble #32 In my Kerouac year

In my Kerouac year
slumped at the bar
I ordered
a shot of tequila
a shot of rum
equal parts orange juice
equal parts cranberry juice
and a shot of lime
in a tall glass.

I wandered North Beach
like a love sick  puppy
looking for my idols.

I hung out at Cafe Trieste
trying to catch the spirit
hoping Kaufman
might show.

A beat sat outside
a homeless man
here he is I thought

I belted out poetry
at the Sacred Grounds Cafe
up on Hayes Street

Walked Market Street
post midnight
I saw the dark owls
delivering crack
in alleyways

I saw the captains of industry
on their sinking ships drowning
in the black mist.

I saw a prophet
shaking his fist at the moon
calling on Jesus
to save us all

I hit Columbus Avenue
2am stumbling drunk into
the Green Tortoise

I had gone to Lowell
drank at the white horse
hunted Larimer Street
climbed down into
the nothingness
of Big Sur
without ever leaving my
room.