of gate crashers,

of all time sizzlers

camped out on the free ground

where the 60’s were last rebuilt.

O pathetic children of Pennsylvania:

TELL ME WHERE ROBERTO CLEMENTE IS TO LIBERATE US ALL

SINCE IT RAINS YELLOW

SNOWS IMPOTENT BLIZZARDS OF RED CARPET OZONE DISASTER?

but hey, be polite

stay cool

make nice…

my generation’s forgotten how to modulate without using our voice, inside.

we reside between poles of opposites

wear poetic boots

donate to the beat hub-bub hoboes

loitering around bleached out Lysol disinfected Greyhound bus stations

where toothless queens hustle $2 sleep joints.

say, remember West Virginia pre-med mountain tree hikes?

so much for stolen memories,

recalling walking backwards cowboy and Indian style,

arms tied innocently around our backs?

and Sunday meat stores closed for killing repairs?

no, no one knew then,

oh Cuban Missile Crisis generation,

we were innocent high school students then

dancing to Motown and smoking filter cigarettes,

nobody’s fault…but wait,

bullshit! everybody’s fault,

we were conveniently zombie-dead!

now a decade later

frozen wet dusk February Pennsylvania Turnpike

streaked with fugitives escaping the nicotine cities,

debating these unresolved lost causes,

resolving to continue tip toe unheard.

so i light another Marlboro

and move on

desirous of any road that calls.

yes Pittsburgh,

despite frozen windshield wipers dripping icy tears,

i leave for StL again…

oh gods,

shelter me!

2/26/73

Allegheny Mts, PA