Jack

Jack
-------

Laid low I see, Jackie.
My modern day Quartermain
                             Boadicea
You were my angel,
                 mountain and scripture.

I could ride the rails with you, Sal.
I could pick
the urban asphalt scabs and
                          sup on it's bitter blood.
In eyes
    k a l e i d o s c o p i c
  with delirium tremens,
the nails in my nights are sugar cane
     (a delicious forest of wonders and terror)

Jackie, Sal, Ray,
      wide-eyed child of the railroad earth and Carnivale America
dogs and rats-

Is your blood dried up (20 proof)
     still churning in my gut?
Are you my shoe size?

Beside you, may I mount Matterhorn and
         bake desolate muffins?
Dance drunk in alleys and avail myself
of the frigid desert stars?

You are my shoe size, friend.
I'll carry your pack.
    Let's go see where the sun sleeps,
        alone in boxcars with Buddha and Mary.
    Let us find a sacred grove-
        a new field of sand and water-logged priests.