Cassady or Kerouac

Then you can call yourself cool
Bacon and eggs, stuck sandwiched between follicles
Breakfast is lunch is dinner
But still grows with his nails
Longer and weaker and frail
Give him your horn Miles, if you can’t toot
Used to watch him sleep on the floor
In the empty room, wooden planked bed
Keep the window open, mornings on his head
Mom is crying and pop is dead
Sweet like the tears that water his lawn
The grass that keeps him six feet down

Cassady or Kerouac

Jonathan Acosta-Rubio

New Orleans, United States

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Artwork Comments

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