Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.
Look, the flowers you nearly bought
Have lasted all this while.
Someone, give us the strength
to survive this particular onslaught
of cell-death and other indignities
God passed away empty handed
But with regret
And like a sly boy
Broke with his shoe
the last dry loaf of bread.
Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun
Our Father who art in me
You are the One I love
The One who hurt me
The One who seeks the truth