a summer whim
conceived over coffee
to glimpse first hand
the birthplace of duluoz
spur and a flash
with rucksack i’m gone
bearing anticipations
of inspiration
wandered downtown weary
a fugue to mark the end
off to boston and later lowell
under aiken street bridge of doctor sax
spanning merrimack of whitman
wrote postcards while cars
above ghostly moaned
later back to sleep beneath
on a little beach
scattered with broken glass
freezing before dawn, donned
every stitch i owned
until great greasy breakfast
in cambridge
then dozing and dreaming
on bus to new york
waking as the driver crazy turned
and swerved through connecticut
soon to be bronx harlem
and chinatown, soho and
central park just a
few avenues shy of
beacon motel
walking out to the streets of
grey manhattan as
rosy evening began to
fall on the asphalt
under distant towers, world
life strapped to my back
headed back to jersey