from the unwritten prison memoirs of Neal Cassady
You seemed to be
a good friend
your writing wasn’t half-bad either.
As a get-high buddy
you couldn’t always quite keep up
but for a wannabe
you were o.k.
Then I got locked down
for the grass
for the duration
and while I was slammed down
you were good to my family
and better than that
to my wife.
I never really got around
to telling you how I felt
before I laid myself
on the railroad tracks
next to my bottle of wine
and was cut by iron wheels
but before the iron wheels
cut me
you did
when you laid my wife down
in her loneliness
and screwed her down
with your wannabe writer’s cock.
You always said I was good
but you know, Jack
you were better
And all I want to say is
FUCK YOU
Jack Keroauc
from one con
who really knows!