Nod to Jack

by Robert Vaughan

My first cross-country
car trip was a nod
to mentor Jack Kerouac
Gregory and I scaled the
arch in St. Louis, ate
Rocky Mountain oysters
sat on the great Grand Canyon
wall imagining possible
new beginnings in our
house on Harold Way
Turns out that trip was
the highlight of transition
The flop house in East
Hollywood, a dissolving
relationship, the strange death
of a childhood friend
made Los Angeles seem
cold, austere, the novelty of
t-shirts in February wore
thin in one day, meanwhile
I missed the Lower East Side’s
harsh amenities, smoking weed
on the stoop, stealing time