an open letter to mr. kerouac

hey jack you see
i felt like your mirror with the wind whipping
through my hair
and when the wheels ceased to spin
and i cased my surroundings
i realized i hadn't gone anywhere
and the problems i'd left
were couches in alleys
that no one would ever claim
and the hardest part
was sifting through the pieces
of the rain soaked and rotten remains
when i got home...