poem of the day 03.13.09

fear and loathing
at the cadillac ranch

i am
the asshole
in the jack kerouac
t-shirt,
traveling the country
in the jack kerouac
t-shirt.

and i am
the asshole
standing in a dust tornado
at the cadillac ranch,
amarillo, texas,
trying to scrawl our names
in pen,
on a back axel
while you take pictures
for your father,
and cry.

we’ve come 2800 miles
and the shit is getting
to me.
i don’t know how
the great ones did it
because all i can think about
is my bed at home,
okay back in your parent’s basement,
and the fact the i’m thirty-three,
jobless, homeless, deeply in debt,
and that maybe i should’ve
traveled the country
back when i was
in my twenties.

still,
all of this is
no excuse for that fit
i threw at the gas station,
and the fact that i wouldn’t
talk to you
through two generic beers
and another badly prepared
turkey sandwich
from out of
our dying cooler.

we walk away from
the graffiti-soaked cars
quietly,
apart,
another day in america
almost shot to shit because of my antics.
and the two hicks at the gate,
selling postcards, ask me,
if i’d like some of their beef jerky
because it might
brighten the mood between us.
maybe it would,
but i think i know what
we really need.

so as you sit
and look at the photos
on the digital camera,
and wipe away the last few tears,
i grab us two cold ones
from the cooler,
our last,
and we watch the texas landscape
for a little bit,
not saying anything,
until i rub your neck,
and we agree to toss the empties
in the brush along route 66
because of all the cops around,
promising to pick up two others
to make up the difference,
before plodding on toward
new mexico,
feeling like good citizens again.

06.18.07

also...i have poems here today