Colfax Avenue

Poetry by Snyder
prose by Kerouac
the Beats shadow on Colfax
me with my mountain pack,

Panhandler on the corner
cardboard with her spiel
"Give Me Your Money"
I hand her my Happy Meal,

She looks pissed, disgusted
"What the Fuck, this shit?"
my take on socialism
is sure to be a hit,

I read On the Road
back in '65
a shy kid in High School
down Colfax I would drive,

Back then I had a Chevy
a '63 Nova two-door
I was 16 and horny
white-bread to the core,

I'd write my closet poems
bemoan with teenage delight
read the Free Press
and masturbate every night,

Dream of being Cassady
with my hand on the wheel
rolling through the darkness
dripping with sex appeal,

Dream of being Snyder
some lonely fire tower
scanning the distant forest
hour after hour,

Now I walk the Avenue
wickedest street in nation
hooker says "hey whitey"
"you want a black vacation"?

But I am meeting Marylou
who may, or may not, be high
later on this afternoon
brittle bright Mile-hi sky,