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